


Something to Want

by TheReluctantShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But Also Some Good Romance Novels, Coming in from the cold, Domestic Fluff, Don't Judge Me, Executive Dean Winchester, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Found Family, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Shop Owner Castiel Novak, Torn Straight from the Pages of Cringey Romance Novels, metaphorically, this is one long tropefest guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: Dean Winchester is a man whoknowsthings. He knows that the long hours and hard work he's put into his family's company are noticed and appreciated. He knows that he's going to be promoted to CEO when his father retires. He knows that the personal sacrifices he's made are worth it, in the end, even if he does come home to an empty house.Castiel Novak is a man whowantsthings. He wants to keep his friends happy and healthy. He wants to help people. He wants to run his little secondhand/curio/bric-a-brac shop at the center of Heaven's Light Shopping Center in peace. He wants someone to come home to.With Dean's promotion and Cas' shop both in peril, a radical proposal to save their futures unites the two of them in a way that neither one is sure about. They'll have to learn to lean on one another as ulterior motives and hidden dangers make themselves known, and maybe, in the meantime, Castiel will be able to teach Dean that it's okay to want something.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 287
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of the TV show Supernatural, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.
> 
> \- No posting schedule, because I am a garbage person comprised of garbage, and cannot commit to anything but my husband.
> 
> \- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.
> 
> \- You can come see me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheReluctantSh1?s=09) if me sharing fan edits and bitching about writer's block floats your boat.
> 
> \- A lot of these plot points are taken from some of my favorite romance novels. It is going to be Trope Goddamn City up in here. Don't judge or @ me about it.
> 
> \- I come by any mistakes here honestly, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.
> 
> \- Feedback is life.

Dean Winchester enters his father’s office with trepidation making him queasy.

He’s never liked this office. It’s a corner office, which he guesses is nice, with the pretty Kansas City skyline making a striking backdrop at any time of day, but the rest of the room is sleek, sterile. The carpets are plush, dark grey, and his father’s desk is all chrome and glass. Two black bookshelves adorn the walls, each lined with awards that Winchester Motors has won and the kinds of books that have their titles stamped in gold leaf on leather spines. He doesn’t know if his dad has ever read any of them or if he just thinks they’re the books he should have read but that’s not really the kind of question he can just _ask._ A piece of greyscale abstract art that Dean has always felt gave off a desperate, predatory air hangs on one wall. Otherwise, the room is bare of personality. There’s no family pictures on _this_ desk.

John Winchester smiles his “colleague smile” and stands. Dean hates the way that remote, impersonal expression looks on his father’s face.

“Dean, thanks for meeting with me. Come have a seat, and shut the door behind you.”

Dean doesn’t bother mentioning that he was ordered to be here, not invited, and does as he’s told.

“What’s this about, sir?” he asks as he settles into the quite frankly uncomfortable chair in front of the desk.

John steeples his fingers in front of his face, another gesture that makes Dean want to cringe.

“It’s about your pending promotion.”

Winchester Motors started as his grandfather’s garage shortly after John was born. Henry Winchester had been a wildly intelligent man who had purchased a foreclosed upon auto shop in the mid-fifties. “Cars are going to be around forever, and that means that there will always be people who would rather have someone else do the work on them.”

It ended up being quite true. With careful and shrewd planning, Henry had grown the business steadily. He’d died shortly after Sam was born, but by then, they’d been the owners of the biggest automotive repair company in the Midwest. John had already stepped in as the head of the company.

Though John is a wizard under the hood, he’s never been as comfortable sitting behind a desk. He’s done a passable job of it, along with the board, and their rate of growth has remained steady and sustainable, if not remarkable.

He’s been grooming Dean for taking over as CEO since he was old enough to hold a wrench. Dean thinks Sam would probably be a better choice, but the kid has never wanted anything to do with the company. So Dean put on a suit, went to college, got a business degree (along with his automotive mechanic certification on the side), and started working for Winchester Motors right out of school.

John hadn’t given him any breaks within the company, so Dean at least feels that he’s earned his current executive position. Even if he suspects that he looks just as uncomfortable in a suit as John himself always has.

Dean nods. “Oh?”

John announced his intention to prepare for retirement almost six months ago. He’d named Dean as his most likely successor, but it was still less than certain. The board would have to vote him on, though Dean was reasonably confident that they would.

“There are some… Concerns.”

 _Maybe not that confident, then._ Dean frowns. “Concerns about what?”

John finally drops the “CEO face,” but it’s not comforting at all.

“About some of the… Shenanigans you got up to as a kid.”

_“What?”_

As a teenager, resentful of the expectations put on his young shoulders, Dean had turned to petty crime. Small stuff, shoplifting from convenience stores and getting into fights. He’d gotten caught, got some therapy, did his community service, and put it behind him.

Or so he’d thought, anyway.

John holds up a placating hand. “I know, you’re past all that now. And I’ve done my best to reassure the board that you’ve changed, but they’re not… Convinced,” he finishes lamely.

Anger makes Dean’s heart rate pick up, and he knows he’s unable to keep at least some of it from bleeding into his voice. “The sixty hours a week I’ve put in for the past five years hasn’t convinced them? What about the Sandover merger? It would have _fallen through_ without me!”

John nods. “And they damn well know that. They’re more worried about how… Unattached you are.”

“I’ve worked here my whole life! How much more attached do they want me to be?”

Dean feels absolutely blindsided. Careful wording aside, he’s been sort of taking it for granted that he’d become CEO when John retires. It’s what’s always been expected of him, so it’s always been what he expected. He’s really never anticipated that there would be doubts on any side.

“Not to the company,” John says quickly. “No one is questioning your loyalty to the company.”

“Then _what?”_

John tries to contort his face into something… Well, Dean’s guessing that he’s going for “fatherly,” but he sort of just looks like he’s in some sort of mild pain.

“Son,” _Oh, he only calls me that when it’s something bad,_ “you turned thirty-two this year and you’re not married. You don’t even have a long-time girlfriend.”

All of Dean’s anger drains out of him in an instant in the face of the wave of disbelief that washes over him.

 _“Excuse me?”_ he croaks.

“Well, a wife has a way of… Setting a man down, smoothing over his rough edges. You’ve put the time in at the job, everyone knows that, but how are you really _different_ from that shithead kid you used to be?”

 _Don’t pull any punches, Dad,_ Dean thinks faintly. The words slice into him neatly, deeply. Dean worked _hard_ to be more than the angry young man he had been at sixteen. He put aside his resentment and opened his eyes to the privilege he had. He’s worked his _ass_ off, and now it’s all for nothing because he hasn’t had the time to _also_ get a white picket fence?

“That is… That is _bullshit,”_ he spits.

John frowns a little. “Well, you _were_ a bit of a wild child, Dean.” Before Dean can even open his mouth again, John goes on. “Now, they haven’t _said_ this, of course, that wouldn’t be right, but I really think if you settle down and get married, their concerns will disappear.”

Dean just stares at his father for a beat. “You… _What?_ Sir, it’s like you said, I’m not even in a _relationship.”_

John cocks an eyebrow. “You know you don’t have to be in love to get married, son.”

The reminder of his mother is like a punch in the gut.

Mary and John married for business, sure, but they ended up falling in love, anyway. She was the brilliant epicenter of their family, whimsical and romantic where John was hard and driven. When she died only a couple of years ago, it was the last time the three Winchester men were united unequivocally. It was in grief, but still.

Dean wonders for a moment what his mom would have said about this, then banishes the thought. Nothing good can come from that line of thinking.

“So you’ve… What, you’ve got someone lined up for me?”

John’s eyebrows go up. “What? No, of course not. What do you think this is?”

Dean has no idea how to answer that.

* * *

“All right, all right, settle down, everyone! Let’s do one last review before we call it a night.”

A few good-natured groans meet Castiel Novak’s request, but he ignores them with long practice.

“Cassie, don’t you think we’ve gone over it enough?” Gabe Shurley asks, slumped in his chair dramatically. The drama is only undercut a little by his lime-green Hawaiian shirt and orange bicycle shorts. “We’ve been here for _hours!”_

Jody Mills-Hanscum cuffs Gabe lightly on the back of his head. “We’ve been here for an hour _tops,_ and unless _you_ want to submit the proposal to Winchester Motors, you’ll stuff it and listen to Cas.:

Cas smiles at the gruff woman. “Thank you, Jody.”

He won’t admit it, at least not here, but he _doesn’t_ really need to review their proposal again. It’s simple, a slight increase in their rent payments in exchange for another twenty-five year fixed-rate contract. It’s not much, but it’s what they can afford, and he’s hoping another heaping dose of nostalgia will keep the Heaven’s Light Shopping Center open and thriving.

A young Mary Campbell had her first coffee date with John Winchester at the shop that, at the time, just had an orange neon sign over the door that declared “COFFEE.” Mary was rather sentimental, so when the shopping center went up for sale twenty-five years ago, she created a subset of Winchester Motors to help local small business owners and bought it. She signed them in for their current fixed rent rate and put a twenty-five year expiration date on it.

Cas assumes that she thought she’d be around to re-up the contract herself.

He never got to meet her, but his father spoke fondly of her. Of course, Joshua spoke fondly of most everyone he met, so that maybe wasn’t indicative of much. The contract she put together, however, _was_ indicative of a very kind soul. Cas can only hope that some of that kindness remains in the company.

“Okay,” Cas says, forcefully pulling his head out of the clouds. “I’m meeting with Winchester Motors tomorrow. We’ve put together a proposal for a modest increase in rent, uncontested, for another twenty-five year, minimum contact contract. We will continue to provide our own maintenance and repairs, pay our own utilities, and uphold our own code of conduct. In return, they’ll keep up on any property taxes and receive the increased rental rate.” He looks up from his notes. “Am I missing anything?”

Everyone is shaking their heads and murmuring, but it’s Gabe who’s looking right at Cas, gaze softened where it’s normally hard and mischievous. “You did great, Cassie. There’s no reason for them not to sign.”

Gabe was a lawyer in the not so distant past, and it’s kind of him to reassure Cas like this. He also knows Cas better than anyone else on Earth, so he probably knows how dreadfully _nervous_ Cas is.

Cas smiles warmly. “Thank you, Gabe.”

Gabe’s nose immediately wrinkles. “Ew, don’t get your sincerity all over me.”

Donna Hanscum-Mills beams at Gabe from where she sits on her wife’s other side. “Aw, you like it, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Gabe grumbles but doesn’t argue. Across the little circle of chairs they’re all sitting in, Meg Masters rolls her eyes. “We done here, Clarence? I don’t want to hang around if y’all are just gonna make googly eyes at each other.”

No one takes offense at her acidic tone, too used to her prickly demeanor. Cas just looks down at his notes again, suppresses the urge to ask again if everyone is _certain_ about this, and says, “No, you’re good to go. I’ll stay to help Donna clean up.”

Everyone stands and puts their chairs in stacks against one wall of the little coffee shop as they chat amiably. Cas lets the sound wash over him and soothe some of his uncharacteristic anxiety.

Heaven’s Light Shopping Center just means so _much_ to him, the _people_ mean so much to him. Jody and Donna and how hard they’ve fought to get here. Gabe, with the damaged heart he doesn’t hide but does his damnedest to protect. Meg and Zeke, with their quiet, steady relationship and quiet, steady friendship to the others of the Shopping Center. Aaron and his bookshop and his insecurities. Missouri, who says cryptic things while feeding and caring for all of them. Even Ash, with his terrible hair and good heart and wickedly sharp intellect. Castiel loves all of them so very much, and he desperately wants to do right by them.

A gentle but surprisingly calloused hand on his arm pulls him out of his spinning thoughts once again. He looks up from where he was sweeping and into Donna’s warm, concerned brown eyes.

“Okay there, Cas?”

Cas smiles. It feels wan, but it’s genuine all the same. “Yes, of course. Just… Thinking about tomorrow. Woolgathering about it, I suppose.”

Donna beams again, which looks natural on her open, pretty face. “Well, don’t you worry. Everything is gonna work out great!”

Cas smiles again and it comes easier this time. He finishes helping her tidy up, then makes his goodbyes. As he starts his car to drive home, he prays to the universe that this Dean Winchester he’s supposed to meet with is as kind as his mother was.


	2. Chapter Two

Dean doesn’t really like running. _At all._ But he’s got to do something for cardio in addition to lifting at the gym three times a week, and it keeps Colonel happy, too. So every morning he grudgingly wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, gets his big German shepherd into his running harness and onto his leash, and they go for a _run._

It’s the worst, but Dean will give it this: once he and Colonel find their rhythm, it gives him a clear enough head to really think.

Though they married to lend credence and strength to a merger, John and Mary Winchester truly adored one another. They had the kind of happy marriage that embarrassed their kids and friends alike. They _doted_ on one another, and when Mary died, she took a big part of John with her.

Dean has never expected anything like that for himself. He’s seen too many other marriages rot from the inside and fall apart. He doesn’t think the all-encompassing adoration his parents had for one another is in the cards for him.

Hell, he thought he’d at least get to make his own _choice,_ though.

While Sam has always been the one who wanted a family and is well on his way to getting it with Jess, Dean’s never really wanted to end up _alone._ It’s always been a foggy, nebulous plan for the future. Find someone, maybe get married, and he doesn’t _hate_ the idea of kids. He just hasn’t met the right person yet.

 _And don’t think I didn’t notice your use of the word “wife” yesterday, Dad,_ he thinks sourly as he and Colonel wait for a crosswalk signal to change.

John knows damn well that Dean’s bisexual, he just doesn’t _like_ it and he never has. The board doesn’t, either, though they would never openly say anything to that effect. Well, maybe that slimy fuck Zachariah would, but Dean doesn’t make a big deal out of his sexuality, so the little weasel has never gotten the chance.

 _I would if it were for the right person,_ he assures himself. _No sense in rocking the boat for the sake of it, though._

The thought tastes sour in the back of his throat. He lets his mind spin and wander for the rest of his run, making no attempt to rein himself in or make sense of his thoughts.

Probably wouldn’t work, anyway.

* * *

He’s no better when he gets into the office that day. He gets through a chunk of his emails and weekly reports from various departments he oversees, but his heart’s not in it. He finds himself halfway through a page without any recollection at all of what was on the first half. He daydreams about lunch, which isn’t _super_ out of the ordinary, but the third time he has to drag his mind away from cheeseburgers and French fries, he has to at least acknowledge the problem.

He’s still reeling from the meeting with his father. The whole thing feels surreal, like a vivid dream (or nightmare). And he knows that he’s also struggling with the idea of John _agreeing_ when the board suggested he was unfit for CEO _because_ he’s single. Like John wasn’t _there_ when Dean was getting into trouble, like he doesn’t know that Dean’s not that kid anymore.

John has never been an overly protective father, but Dean never really thought that when push came to shove John would ever land on someone else’s side.

A very soft whisper in the back of his mind says _you don’t have to put up with this,_ but Dean dismisses the thought immediately. He’s been with Winchester Motors his whole life, what would he even _do?_

 _I’ll figure something out,_ he thinks firmly. _I won’t just roll over and take this._ He doesn’t know what he’ll do instead, but making the assertion to himself makes him feel a little better.

Intent on cheering himself up, he sticks his head out of his office. “Anna, do I have anything pressing to do before lunch?” _Some time with Baby in the garage will do me some good. She could use some tinkering._

Anna, his assistant, dutifully checks the digital calendar she keeps for him. Anna is a painfully kind, sweet woman who Dean hired mostly to get her out of the sales department, which is a sexist boys’ club at _best._ Dean manages to generate enough paperwork to keep them both busy, but he thinks Anna’s wise to his scheme. Either she’s grateful to not be harassed every day, or she’s too nice to call him out.

“Sorry, boss, but it looks like you have an eleven-thirty meeting.”

Dean makes a face and Anna smiles sympathetically. “Sorry,” she says again.

Dean gives her a rueful smile. “Don’t be, I’m the one scheduling meetings and forgetting them. What’s the meeting for?”

She glances at her screen again. “No specifics, just says contract renegotiation with a Castiel Novak.”

“With a who?”

“Castiel Novak. There aren’t any details beyond that.”

Dean grimaces again. “Well, that’s not cryptic and ominous or anything?”

“Would you like me to look into him?”

“Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

* * *

 _I was right,_ Dean thinks at eleven forty-five, _cryptic and ominous._

It’s not that Castiel Novak has been anything but perfectly polite. _Painfully_ polite might actually be more accurate. He complimented Anna’s blouse and did the same for Dean’s office upon entering. He’s wearing a _very_ nice tailored suit in a deep navy blue that makes Dean glad he wears suits to work himself, because he would feel shabby in comparison. He’s well-spoken and smart, and he put together a presentation that’s easy to follow. He’s said things like “gosh” and “my word,” which are ridiculous, but which seem to fit in his lush mouth perfectly.

 _Lush._ Therein lies the problem. Castiel Novak is polite and apparently quite kind, but he is _precisely_ Dean’s type. Just a shade too muscular to really be a twink, but still slender. He’s tanned, but it’s more likely the result of honest time in the sun than a tanning bed. His dark hair is combed neatly, but Dean is willing to bet money that it looks good untamed. He’s got bright blue eyes that are warm and wide, and of course, his _lush_ mouth.

In short, Castiel is the precise combination of physical features that have been known to get Dean to do stupid, _stupid_ things.

“In conclusion, we realize that the HLSC isn’t Winchester Motors’ normal investment. We’re hoping, however, that our good standing in our current long term agreement will encourage you to sign a renewed contract,” Castiel finishes with a nervous, hopeful smile.

It’s not a bad offer, even if it’s not a particularly compelling one, either. But the sight of his mom’s signature on the original contract hits Dean like a punch in the gut. His sentimentality over this, something she clearly wanted to keep intact, probably would have gotten him to sign no matter what. Getting someone as hot as Cas in his office is really just a bonus.

And it’s not like it’s a _bad_ deal. Real estate is always a good bet, and with guaranteed tenants, it’s an even better one. He comforts himself with the knowledge that it’s sound business even as he knows he’s going to sign whatever the pretty man puts in front of him.

Castiel is still tense, nervous, and doing a garbage job of hiding it. Dean is hopelessly endeared.

“If you have any questions,” Castiel says, “I would, of course, be happy to answer them. Or any proposed changes! The HLSC has given me full authority to sign off on any alterations to this contract. Or any concerns you’d like to hash out.”

_Concerns._

The idea hits Dean like lightning. It’s the perfect solution to his problems, practically gift-wrapped for him.

_\- the… Shenanigans you got up to as a kid._

Hell, Castiel is a business owner, clearly a sharp dresser, and seems to be at least a de facto leader.

_\- worried about how… Unattached you are._

Castiel just _screams_ “commitment.” No one will believe Dean is anything but firmly attached.

_\- don’t think I didn’t notice your use of the word “wife,” Dad-_

Almost best of all, this will be the perfect way to stick it to his dad _and_ the board while also giving them exactly what they want.

He feels a twinge of guilt, he does. He reasons that this will benefit Castiel, too, in the long run. And it’s not like it’s for forever, or like it’s _real._

To his utter horror, Dean hears himself blurt the words out with no amount of finesse or smoothness whatsoever.

“Marry me.”

* * *

“Marry me.”

Castiel blinks, utterly derailed. He really thought the meeting was going quite well. He’s nervous, of course, but he feels that he’s doing a passable job of covering.

Now he’s a bit worried that either he or Mr. Winchester is having a stroke. He’s not sure which of them, but one of them is, surely.

“I beg your pardon?”

It’s a small comfort that Mr. Winchester looks just as surprised as Cas feels.

 _“Jesus,_ I’m so sorry, that was… Uh, a little out of nowhere.” He smiles, crooked and now a bit nervous, too. “Let me explain?”

 _Oh, dear._ Dean Winchester is, of course, devastatingly handsome, and Castiel is so, so weak, so he’s predisposed to say “yes” to whatever the other man wants, anyway. Add to that a touch of nerves and the shine of vulnerability in those lovely green eyes? Ah, Cas is _doomed._

“Of course,” he says faintly.

Dean sits forward, leaning his forearms on the edge of the desk.

“My dad, John Winchester, the CEO, is stepping down from his position. I’m the natural choice as his replacement, but the fact that I’m not married is a roadblock.”

Cas frowns. “That’s a bit antiquated, isn’t it?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, for sure, but it is what it is. The problem is that I’m not in a relationship right now, and I definitely don’t have anyone lining up to marry me.” That nervous smile hits Castiel right in the heart again. “That’s where you come in, Mr. Novak.”

The shape of the situation has started to form in Cas’ mind, and the only thing he can think to say is, “Under the circumstances, it seems more appropriate for you to call me Cas, doesn’t it?”

Mr. Winchester acknowledges this with a nod. “Then you can call me Dean.” He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs.

“I know that this is… Unconventional, and completely out of left field, and I’m pretty desperate, but I want you to get something out of this, too. What I’m proposing will be mutually beneficial, I won’t lie, though, you’d be doing me a pretty big favor.”

Cas feels like his head is underwater, making sound and light seem far away and unreal. “Oh?”

Dean nods again, earnest. Cas’ heart thuds painfully in his chest.

“Like I said, you won’t be walking away with nothing.”

“What do-” Cas croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “What do you have in mind, exactly?”

“An indefinite contract for Heaven’s Light Shopping Center. No raise in rent from what you’re paying now. No change in terms. No expiration date, forbearing the dissolution of Winchester Motors.”

“And… _Your_ side of the bargain?”

“You agree to marry me for at least one year. That should be plenty of time for me to secure my position.”

Castiel nods slowly, trying to think through the frankly absurd circumstances he finds himself in. His brain feels like molasses, thick and slow. “And what would being ‘married’ entail, precisely?”

Dean’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God, I didn’t even ask if you’re interested in men. Listen, you can-”

“Mr. Win- _Dean,_ Dean, it’s all right. I’m not a heterosexual.”

Dean slumps a little in what looks like relief. _“Oh,_ thank God. I mean, shit, I thought I… Well, no matter.” He smiles, self-deprecating and just a touch shy. Castiel is not going to make it out of this meeting alive. “I’m not either, obviously.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas says, for lack of anything better to say.

Dean clears his throat a little. “Uh, like I was saying, as far as being married, I don’t think we’ll need to entangle ourselves _too_ much. For appearance’s sake, we’ll have to…” Here he blushes, which Cas finds inappropriately delightful. “Well, we’ll probably have to move in together. And we’ll need to go on semi-regular dates for visibility, but I think that will be the extent of it. Might be overcautious, really.”

Cas swallows hard. “And if one of us… Meets someone?”

“Well, we’ll have to have an NDA drawn up, and we’d have to be discreet, but there’s no reason this marriage should interfere with our… Uh, personal lives,” Dean finishes with a wince, as if he knows how absurd it sounds.

“Ah.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence that Cas genuinely doesn’t know how to break. What Dean is suggesting is outrageous, insane, and borderline offensive. If it wasn’t for the earnestness with which he insisted that they’ll both get something out of it, Cas might even accuse Dean of outright manipulation.

_On the other hand…_

Well, on the other hand is the way Cas’ poor heart picked up to a gallop in his chest when Dean said, “Marry me.”

“I do believe you have yourself a deal, Dean.”

* * *

After they arrange to meet the next day with their lawyers, exchange phone numbers, and share an awkward, stilted farewell, Castiel parts ways with Dean Winchester.

He thinks briefly about heading straight home, but dismisses the thought immediately after. He’s too keyed up, there’s too much adrenaline and disbelief still in his system. The day barely feels real, even now. Instead, he turns left on a whim and walks.

It’s only a few blocks before he runs into a little tea shop. It won’t be as good as what Donna makes, of course, but it’s relatively quiet in the middle of the day, and he needs _something._ He goes inside, orders, and finds a corner table to settle down at and think.

He thinks of his father, as he so often does when he’s in a dilemma. Joshua Novak was a strong, steady man who took a chance on a strange, solemn little boy. Joshua had loved Castiel fiercely and without reserve, and Castiel had loved him back the same way. He thinks he would never have gotten out of the system alive if not for Joshua.

Joshua taught him that real love is precious and certainly not to be played with. He also taught Cas that _friends_ are precious, and that he should do everything in his power to help and protect the ones he has.

Cas takes a sip of his mass-produced, subpar tea and looks up beseechingly.

“What would you do if it were you, Dad?”

But Joshua is gone, taken by cancer several years ago, and not only would he likely never be in this situation, it’s up to Cas now. He has to find a way to save the shop he loves and the friends who have placed so much faith in him.

_By lying to them for a year._

“Well,” Castiel murmurs to himself, “needs must, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Dean Winchester, smooth like crunchy peanut butter.


	3. Chapter Three

“This is a stupid, terrible idea and I’m shocked and appalled that you’re going along with it.”

Castiel is chipping away at the neverending task of keeping inventory in some semblance of order. He’s working his way through a sizable donation of children’s and baby clothes, clipboard in one hand and his reading glasses perched low on his nose. He’s been mostly ignoring Gabe all morning.

“Your opinion has been duly noted,” he says dryly, taking a stack of onesies from the box and depositing it in the “wash” cart.

Gabe growls in frustration. “Castiel, would you  _ please _ cut it out and take this seriously?”

The use of his first name and the uncharacteristic note of something like trepidation in his friend’s voice gives Cas pause. He puts the clipboard down, pushes his glasses to sit atop his head, and turns to Gabe.

Because Gabe  _ is _ his friend, his oldest friend, really. If Cas ever had to depend on any one person, it’s been Gabriel since they were young. Like Joshua, Gabe saw something  _ more _ in the pale, quiet child Castiel was. He declared them friends upon their first meeting and that was that. Through the trials of growing up in public school, through whatever antics Gabe’s thirst for mischief inevitably dropped them into, and through Castiel’s realization and the subsequent revelation of his pansexuality and Gabe’s unquestioning acceptance, the two of them have had each other’s backs since they laid eyes on one another.

When Gabe came back from the East coast, from a skyrocketing career as a lawyer, licking his wounds from what he’d called a “mutual decision to take a break,” Castiel insisted he stay on Cas’ couch. Three weeks later, when a very drunk Gabe admitted that Kali had actually quite publicly cheated on him and left a pile of his things on the front lawn of their home, Castiel hadn’t hesitated. They broke out more tequila, gallons of ice cream, and cursed Kali’s name loudly and emphatically.

Gabe decided that, without Kali and considering the vicious gossip mill that the circles he’d associated with had engaged in, maybe staying home would be best. Cas convinced him to stay in Heaven’s Light, and he’d eventually opened Trickster’s Tailoring, a clothing boutique and tailor’s shop across the parking lot from Cas’ own store.

It’s been a few years and Gabe is happier than Cas has ever seen him. He runs his shop and sleeps with a lot of women and rarely even remembers that he has a law degree.

Which is why this is such a favor for Cas. The contract and NDA arrived by discreet courier that morning. Cas took one look at it and felt his eyes promptly cross. He’d already told Gabe about the deal with Dean and his friend had agreed to come over to look at the contract right away.

A pang of guilt hits Cas in the chest when he finally gives Gabe his full attention. His hazel eyes are solemn in a way they rarely are and he’s fidgeting with his pen, a clear sign of distress. The paperwork is in neat piles in front of him, but all of it has been spread out, gone over with sharp, suspicious eyes, and restacked several times.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says sincerely. “I know this must be… Strange. It’s one thing to hear it, another to see it in writing.”

Gabe snorts, but the line of his shoulders loses some tension. “‘Strange.’ Cassie, it’s not ‘strange,’ it’s  _ unreal.” _ He gestures to the paperwork. “This is…  _ So _ fucked up.”

“Language,” Cas says primly.

Gabe ignores him with the ease of long practice. “‘I agree to accompany Mr. Dean Winchester on at least one public outing every six weeks, to any corporate functions for Winchester Motors that Mr. Dean Winchester attends, and each major national holiday, should a celebration take place.’ This is  _ required dating.” _

Cas shrugs. “Free food.”

“It says here you’re going to  _ move in with him.” _

“I’m not particularly attached to my apartment, as you’re well aware, and it also says there that Dean is going to pay to get me out of my lease.”

“If you  _ do _ meet someone else, according to this, you can’t even leave Winchester for the full twelve months! You’ll have to have a  _ side piece.” _

Cas smiles. “It’s not like my dance card has ever been overfull, and especially so since the Michael fiasco.”

Gabe’s face darkens. “Cas, I-”

Cas reaches across the clear display case that normally acts as his shop’s register counter and is currently acting as their impromptu desk to cover Gabe’s hand with his own. “Gabe, really, I’m  _ fine. _ I know it’s unconventional, but I really am perfectly content with this arrangement. It’s only for a while, it will save Heaven’s Light, and it will help a nice man out.”

Gabe scowls. “‘Nice man’ my ass.”

“Don’t talk about my husband that way.”

That draws a strained, reluctant laugh from his friend. Cas still counts it as a win.

Gabe runs his other hand through his hair. “I just…  _ Jesus, _ Cassie. This is like the plot of one of Donna’s shitty romance novels, you know?”

Cas smiles. “It’s a bit improbable, isn’t it?”

“How do you get yourself into this kind of mess?” Hazel eyes narrow and Gabe points at him angrily. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you. You are  _ not _ taking Winchester in as one of your strays, do you hear me?”

Cas pats the hand he’s still holding. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll be very professional. No funny business here.”

_ Except for he’s gorgeous and vulnerable and I think he’s hurting and he needs me and he’s going to be  _ mine _ for a while. _

He pats Gabe’s hand again. Gabe glares at him, unconvinced. The bell above the door chimes.

“Mr… Uh, Cas? You here?”

“Back and to the left, Dean!” Cas calls, then levels Gabe with a glare of his own.

“Now, behave yourself.”

* * *

Dean looks around Cas’ shop, rather cleverly named Needs Must, with an almost unwilling fascination.

It’s part secondhand store, part flea market, part used bookstore, part curio shop. The shelves definitely have some sort of order or pattern, but for the life of him he can’t figure out what it is. A mix of vintage hanging lamps and crystal chandeliers keep the place remarkably well-lit with warm, clean light.

Something about the shop feels… It feels  _ good, _ homey, settled. It makes Dean feel content and warm, which he vehemently fights down as he leads a surly, silent Sam toward where he heard Cas’ voice.

He can feel the anger and tension radiating from Sam and he does his best to ignore it. Sam’s probably right to be as horrified as he is, as horrified as Dean probably should have been when the initial idea came to him, but Dean won’t be swayed.  _ This will help both of us, _ he tells himself firmly,  _ and it’s only for a year. _

Sam said some nasty things, though, things like  _ Daddy’s blunt object _ and  _ indentured servitude _ and  _ a step above prostitution, and a small step at that. _ The two of them don’t fight often, but when they do, they fight hard. Dean’s never thrown a punch at his brother, but Sam sorely tempted him that morning. The air between them is still frosty.

They find the counter tucked into a back corner. Half of it is glass display case, where pieces of jewelry are displayed neatly on black velvet. The other half is a sort of hybrid cash register/bagging area/wrapping station. Dean is getting the impression that a lot of Cas’ life is pieced together like this.

Speaking of Cas, he’s standing on the other side of the counter with a shy smile that makes Dean’s heart flutter a little. He’s wearing an honest to God tie-dyed t-shirt advertising a local charity and his hair is a far cry from the gelled, combed way he wore it to Dean’s office. It’s dry and fluffy and  _ exactly _ what Dean was picturing when he was thinking less than professional thoughts. The wire-framed glasses he has sitting atop his head don’t help Dean  _ at all _ in that regard.

The sight of him calls forth an answering smile on Dean’s face. He’s glad that he chose to dress down a little in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. He assures himself that it’s because he won’t make Cas uncomfortable like this and not because he knows what his arms look like in the short sleeves.

Their warm, tentative gaze is interrupted by Sam’s sharp intake of breath.

“Gabriel Shurley?”   
  
The man standing next to Cas is the antithesis of Cas’ easygoing warmth. His smile is sharp and predatory, his eyes hard and cold. He’s a full head shorter than Cas. The suit he’s wearing is nice,  _ really _ nice, or it would be if it wasn’t eye-searingly orange.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Cas’ companion says with false cheer. “Does my reputation precede me by that much?”

When Dean glances at his brother, Sam’s eyes are wide as he stammers. “Oh, uh, no. I mean, kind of? I’m a lawyer, so, yes? I just thought that you, uh…”

Gabe laughs, loud and a little mean. “You thought I quit practicing law after Kali fucked me over, fucked me up, and hung me out to dry? Well, you’re right. But sometimes I still dust off the ol’ briefcase to help a friend.” His smile is still hard. “I’ll be representing Cas in this little clusterfuck.”

Before Dean can get any more irritated, Cas speaks.

“Gabe, that’s enough, and watch your language,” he says firmly. “We’re all adults here, and Dean and I have already agreed to go through with this. If you’re going to be difficult, then I’m going to ask you to leave.”

To Dean’s surprise, Gabe scowls and mutters but ultimately subsides.

“Fine. Let’s get down to business, then.”

* * *

The contract is the same thing that Dean had Sam draw up and send over, so there’s not very much to review in the first place. Cas doesn’t let his friend change or object to anything, although it remains clear that the tight leash chafes Gabe.

Dean gets it. He is pretty clearly taking advantage of Cas’ kindness here. Even if he’s made sure that the other man isn’t walking away emptyhanded, one of them is getting more out of this situation, and it’s obviously not Cas.

So Dean doesn’t get mad at Gabe’s prickly demeanor. Sam stays calm, too, though he rises to the bait a few times until Dean or Cas has to put a stop to angry words and bitten-off declarations.

Watching Cas vacillate between fondness and genuine exasperation with Gabe, with absolutely no hint of ire for Dean, who has ostensibly backed him into a corner with this deal, makes him glad  _ someone _ is watching out for Cas, at least.

The meeting is drawing to a close when Gabe, with that hint of cruelty in his eye that makes Dean want to hit him, says, “All right, last thing. Let’s hear about your skeletons, Winchester.”

Dean stares at him.  _ What? _

Sam’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Gabe, I-” Cas starts, looking worried.

Gabe leans forward and ignores his friend, eyes intent on Dean.

“Cassie here is a prominent businessman in this community whose livelihood depends on his sterling reputation. I want to know before he signs the dotted line if there’s anything lurking in your past or present that will damage him in any way.”

Dean feels Sam tense next to him. “I don’t-”

“Maybe,” Dean says. He probably would have been honest anyway, but Gabe has a point. Prominent or no, Cas owns a small business that probably owes a lot to word of mouth referrals. Anything shady from Dean’s life could very well hurt Cas permanently, no matter how temporary this deal is.

“When I was a teenager, I got picked up for shoplifting. I was an angry kid, and I ran with a pretty bad crowd for a while. I did my community service and I got therapy, but it’s all on public record.”

Gabe puffs up and Dean steels himself for whatever’s coming. There’s a lot of reactions when he tells people about his past. Sometimes it’s pity for a misguided kid, sometimes it’s disgust for a privileged “poor me” white kid, sometimes it’s a nervous giggle and a thinly veiled joke about what a “dangerous guy” he is. He’s pretty much seen it all, and he’s prepared to take it.

Before he can, though, Castiel lays a gentle, long-fingered hand on Gabe’s arm and the shorter man deflates immediately.

“That’s not a problem at all, Dean,” Cas says gently. “You paid your small debt to society and you got help. Anyone who has a problem with your past isn’t welcome in my shop, anyway.”

Dean just stares for a moment. That’s… Not what he expected. At  _ all. _

Even with the myriad of reactions he gets, it’s not like a lot of people go out of their way to judge him. It was stupid teenage angst bullshit and he’s pretty upfront about that. But no one has ever acknowledged, dismissed, and been willing to defend him so quickly, so readily. And a near stranger at that.

Sam, apparently, isn’t feeling quite as warm and fuzzy as Dean is.

“What about you, Mr. Novak? Is there something we should know about  _ you?” _

Gabe’s eyes narrow. “Why, you-”

“Gabe, it’s only fair,” Cas says softly. “We asked first.”

“No,  _ I _ asked first, and I think we all I know I was doing it to be a prick-”

“Language,” Cas says serenely before looking back toward Dean. “I’m not squeaky clean, either. I was adopted, which I suppose isn’t scandalous so much as unusual. Gabe and I got into some trouble as boys, but nothing serious.”

Cas’ eyes dart away and the lines around his mouth get a bit deeper, a touch of distress on his otherwise relaxed, very pretty features.

“And there’s Michael.”

_ “Cassie,” _ Gabe says sternly.

_ Don’t give this to me, _ Dean thinks.  _ Whatever you’re about to say, don’t just give it up to us, Christ. _

Cas ignores both Gabriel and Dean’s silent pleading. “Michael Angelos and I dated for a few months a couple of years ago. We kept it quiet since he wasn’t out of the closet yet. I discovered that he wasn’t faithful and had, in fact, begun sleeping with his secretary. I confronted him once he got back to my place, but even though we were alone, he panicked about being outed and ran. He did what he could to publicly discredit me, though it was quite unnecessary. There are a few circles in this city that think I’m unstable, reckless, jealous, and not particularly concerned with the truth.”

_ Jesus Christ, _ Dean thinks again. He has no idea what to say to help or to make this better. Not only did Cas have to go through that in the first place, which must have been a devastating experience for someone who’s so obviously kind, he just had to relive it because of Dean and his contract. Not to mention Sam’s big, insensitive mouth.

Cas misinterprets Dean’s silence entirely. He smiles tightly.

“I’ll understand if this puts you off from the deal. Some of the rumors were quite nasty. We can-”

At that moment, Sam’s protests don’t matter. Gabe’s don’t, either. John Winchester’s attitude and unwillingness to stand up for his sons don’t matter. Dean’s reservations about this whole thing, despite it being his idea, don’t matter. Hell, the  _ contract _ barely matters.

The only thing that  _ does _ matter, for reasons that Dean couldn’t properly explain, even if he wanted to, is getting that awful fucking look off of Cas’ face.

“No,” Dean says firmly. “We’re signing.  _ I’m _ signing. We’re doing this.”

The way warmth returns to Cas’ blue eyes is what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Why is Michael the bad guy in so many of my fics? I might have some unresolved issues.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strolls in a month later with iced coffee* 'Sup, y'all.

Getting married as part of a scheme involves a lot more paperwork than Cas originally anticipated.

Once the illicit contract was signed, then came the prenup, which was so fair and borderline  _ generous _ that even Gabe had a hard time finding something to complain about. Then the NDA, which was very standard and Cas knew about. There was the request for a basic physical from a doctor, unusual but not completely unheard of. The request for STD screening was a surprise, one that Cas did  _ not _ tell Gabriel about, and one that Dean apologized for profusely and insisted that he be subject to the same as soon as he found out.

(Cas gets the feeling that Sam might actually  _ despise _ him. That’s going to make the required family events awkward.)

Once all the paperwork was signed and filed, and the test results came back negative, it was time to get the ball rolling. Which meant telling his friends.

* * *

“I’ve been seeing Dean Winchester for a while now, several months. Because of the possible ramifications for Heaven’s Light, we decided to keep it very private. But he’s going to be up for a promotion soon and we’ve… Well, he’s asked me to marry him and I said ‘yes.’”

* * *

Meg is the hardest to tell.

Their friendship, much like his and Gabe’s, doesn’t make much sense on the surface. They met in high school. Meg thought Cas was an idiot for being so kind to everyone around them, but she must have liked it at least a little because she also beat up anyone who bullied him. They’re still quite close, and Crossroads, the magic supplies and bookstore she owns with her long-time partner Zeke, is right next to Needs Must.

Meg, looking sharply at him over the coffee he brought as a peace offering-slash-buffer, cuts right to the heart of the matter.

“Is this like it was with Angelos?”

Cas blinks, then blanches.  _ “No, _ no, Dean is  _ nothing _ like Michael.”

Meg’s fathomless eyes narrow dangerously. “You haven’t successfully kept a secret from me since we were sophomores.”

It’s not  _ quite _ an accusation, but it hits its intended mark, anyway. Cas flushes in guilt and sighs.

“It wasn’t… Meg, it wasn’t like that. He… I wanted to protect Dean’s job and he wanted to protect mine. It’s nothing more, I swear to you. And besides,” he says with a small smile that feels disingenuous and feigned on his face, “hasn’t this already proved that he’s nothing at all like Michael? It’s going to be difficult to hide a wedding ring.”

His expression must look much more real than it feels. Meg only studies him closely for a few moments more before relaxing.

“Yeah, well, you can’t blame me for worrying. The situation sure  _ looks _ the same from the outside.”

“Of course, I understand.”

Meg rolls her eyes, her usual vicious playfulness rising to the surface again. “And,  _ of course, _ you would put yourself in a shit situation to help someone you love. Real on brand of you, Clarence.”

Something in his chest twinges at the word  _ love, _ but he ignores it. He has to.

“Well, Dean was in much the same position for me.”

Meg huffs. “Good. You’re a match made in martyr heaven.” She levels him with a severe look. “And if he ever acts like it  _ wasn’t _ heaven where he found you, you let me know. Zeke and I will kick his ass.”

“You tell ‘em, baby,” Zeke says absently as he walks by, pausing to drop a kiss on the top of Meg’s head. He’s been here in the shop, listening, but he seemed to sense that this was really a conversation for Meg and Cas. Cas is grateful for his friends’ intuition.

He’s also charmed by Meg’s protectiveness despite the needless threat of violence (a near-constant state where Meg is concerned). Cas feels himself relax an iota. “You’ll be the first to know. Both of you.”

“Damn right,” Meg says firmly, smirking.

Sensing the end of the serious part of the conversation is over, Zeke sidles up to the counter where Cas and Meg are at. Innocently, but with sharp eyes that miss next to nothing, he asks, “So, when’s the wedding?”

* * *

Ash squints at Cas over the dingy, cluttered counter of The Doctor Is In, the computer repair shop Ash runs.

“This Dean a good dude?”

Cas smiles. “The best.”

Ash squints harder. “He treat you right?”

“He does, yes.”

“What’s his credit score?”

Cas is too used to Ash to be stymied by the seeming non-sequitur. “I don’t know the exact  _ number, _ but-”

Ash waves it away. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it.”

“Ash, no, I don’t-”

“When’s the weddin’, then?”   


* * *

Aaron just smiles at him.

“Does he make you happy, Cas?”

Cas’ chest aches and his fingers tremble. He hides it by drumming them on the counter of Aaron’s shop and nods. “Very much so.”

Aaron shrugs. “Then you’re forgiven for the lies.”

_ If only it were that simple. _

* * *

Donna and Jody are the next hardest, and not only because they tag team him with their concern.

Donna is gripping his hand on one of Oh, You Betcha’s whimsical, mismatched cafe tables. “You know how we worry, now.”

“Of course, and I  _ do _ appreciate it, but-”

“And you didn’t feel like you could tell  _ anyone?” _

Donna’s chocolate eyes are warm with concern and it makes it that much more difficult not to come clean. Not only does he despise lying to his dearest friends, but he  _ wants _ to tell Donna and Jody. He wants to talk about this whole absurd predicament and get their opinions. He wants Jody’s gruff, no-nonsense care and Donna’s open, never-ending affection and humor to comfort him. 

The NDA looms in his mind and Cas suddenly feels quite alone.

Still, he musters up a smile. “It was for the safety of everyone involved. Now that the paperwork has been signed on the Heaven’s Light contract and Dean is up for his promotion, it finally feels right to ‘go public,’ as it were.”

Donna doesn’t seem relieved, not that Cas expected her to. Though it may seem that on the surface she’s a bit of a space case, she’s smart as a whip and fiercely protective of her friends.

“It all just seems so… Sudden.” She heaves a sigh. “But, then, I suppose it doesn’t seem that way for you, does it?”

Cas smiles and hopes, again, that it looks better than it feels. “No, not at all.”

Donna brightens. “Well, how did he propose, then? Or,  _ oh, _ did  _ you _ propose?”

_ He blurted out a demand for matrimony half an hour after we met. _ “We’ve been discussing it for quite some time, so it was less a ‘proposal’ and more a ‘discussion,’ to be honest.”

Donna pouts. “Well, that’s not romantic  _ at all.” _

“Castiel,” Jody says, and Cas’ heart sinks.

Jody has been mostly silent while Cas spoke, sitting next to Donna with a frown. Cas knew she’d be a hard sell, and it looks like he was right.

He swallows. “Yes?”

Jody sits forward, her eyes dark and solemn. “I’d like to ask you a question, and I want you to remember that it’s because we love you and this is a safe place for you, okay?”

_ “Jodes,” _ Donna chides softly, but she offers no other protest.

Cas knows what’s coming, and he loves Jody for it even as he dreads the conversation to follow. “Of course, anything.”

“Sometimes keeping a relationship secret is a way for one partner to control the other. It’s also an effective strategy for keeping abuse secret. Not just physical abuse, but emotional and financial abuse, too.” Jody reaches across the table and oh, so very gently lays her hand on his arm.

“Cas, I have to know: is Dean Winchester abusing you?”

Cas gives Jody the respect of not bursting into denial at once, though part of him wants to. Not only would being too defensive be incredibly incriminating, but Jody and Donna deserve better than that from him.

Jody was a sheriff before she and Donna came to Kansas City, and Cas knows she’s seen her fair share of terrible things people will do to one another. It’s genuine love and concern that make her ask now, now that she’s put those instincts away and done her best to stay out of other peoples’ affairs.

His heart swells with love for the two women before him. He does hate lying to them, and he’s putting them in a terrible situation, but their very real, grounded concern warms him to the core. It helps him find the words he needs to put them at ease.

“I know this is a very unusual circumstance, and your concern is smart and warranted. But I assure you that, though our relationship has been quite unconventional up to this point, Dean has never and will never make me feel unsafe in any way. We love one another very much, and he’s a wonderful partner who would never harm me.”

Jody keeps his gaze for a long, quiet moment, steady and searching, before nodding once.

“All right, then. I’m so-”

Cas holds a hand up. “Please, no apologies. That was a difficult question to have, much less to ask, and I love you all the more for having done it.” He smiles, and it feels the best it has all day. “You don’t have to be sorry for wanting to protect me.”

Jody smiles back and clasps his arm again. “Well, someone ought to.”

“Now that that whole ugly but necessary business is over,” Donna says brightly, “when’s the wedding and how many donuts do you want me to bake for the reception?”

* * *

Cas is sweeping up at the end of the day, tired and heartsick already from all the lying  _ (how am I going to keep this up for an entire year?) _ when the bell above the door gives its happy little chime. 

Missouri Moseley rounds the corner as Cas looks up. Her dark face is kind and gentle, though he knows she can be hard as stone when she needs to be. She’s wearing a nice blouse and a flowing, colorful skirt, and he knows she heard precisely what he just thought. She knows  _ everything. _

“Oh, sugar,” she says, her breathy voice tinged with sadness. Cas’ eyes start to burn.

“Missouri,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and urgency, “you can’t-”

Missouri is a psychic, the real deal, and Cas believes in her powers wholeheartedly. He was never going to be able to keep this secret from her. He’s going to have to ask her to lie for him, too, at least by omission.

_ What kind of friend would do that? Would ask that of someone he cares about? What am I  _ doing-

“Oh, sugar, come here, now.”

Cas finds himself dropping his broom to return Missouri’s embrace. He’s dimly surprised to find himself shaking like a leaf. He’s not crying, not yet, but he trembles wrapped in Missouri’s arms.

“Now you just hush up now, Castiel,” she says firmly, rocking him back and forth gently. “We both know precisely what kind of friend you are. No one here will ever fault you for doing what you’re doing to protect us, y’hear? Hush, now, you’re all right. It’s all going to be okay, Castiel, you’ll see.”

As he shakes and tries desperately to control his breathing, Cas wishes he could believe her this time, too.

* * *

Dean has genuinely tried not to be an irredeemable asshole when it comes to his contract with Cas. He made sure that Cas was going to get something out of the deal, too. He let Gabe be a dick without rising to the bait. He nearly imploded with rage when he found out that Sam subjected Cas to STD tests, then went to get them himself when it had turned out that Cas had already gotten them without complaint. He’s cleared a room for Cas in his house, paid to have Cas’ lease broken at his apartment complex, and has been giving serious thought to giving Cas’ old clunker of a car a badly needed tune-up despite Cas’ protestations.

Maybe it’s purely out of guilt (of  _ course _ it’s out of guilt), but he really is trying to do the right thing by Cas. While simultaneously forcing the man to marry him, but Dean tries not to think about that too hard.

Every bit of the few, tiny kernels of pride he’s gathered to stave off that guilt and shame shrivel up forever when Cas arrives at the courthouse the day they’re going to get married.

_ Alone. _

In another sharp suit, with his hair neat again and his glasses nowhere in sight, Cas is a delectable vision. His blue eyes are warm and a bit nervous as he approaches Dean where he’s waiting on the courthouse steps.

“Hello, Dean.”

His gravelly voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine, but he ruthlessly ignores them.

“Just you?” He misses casual by about a mile.

Cas gives him a small smile. “Just me, I’m afraid.”

_ Jesus. _ When he asked Cas if the wedding could be family only, he was thinking of the spectacle the whole thing could turn into. Hell, the board would want to turn it into a three-ring circus just for the positive media attention.  _ Look, look at how progressive we are. Our future CEO is gay! _

And because he’s a selfish bastard, he never even considered that  _ Cas has no family. _

“Fuck, Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Cas blinks. “Whatever for?”

Dean groans. “When I said just family, I completely forgot that-”

A gentle hand on his arm stops him from saying something insensitive and making the whole situation even worse. There’s no censure in Cas’ expression at all.

“Dean, it’s quite all right. I don’t consider myself without family, but I suspected you wanted a quiet, subdued affair with little fuss. My loved ones are a bit more… Colorful than that. I’m quite content to be here on my own.”

“Cas,” Dean says, feeling like the scum of the Earth, “my dad and brother are in there. I can get them to leave if you want.”

Cas frowns. The little line that appears between his eyebrows kills Dean just a little.

“It’s our wedding day, of course they should be here.” There is absolutely no trace of sarcasm or ire on Cas’ face, and Dean dies again.

“Are you even  _ real?” _ he breathes, agitated and wishing he could run his hand through his hair without messing up the gel.

Cas’ smile is bright. “Well, you’d better hope so, or this will be a rather pointless endeavor, won’t it?”

_ I’m a dead man, _ Dean thinks, charmed despite himself.

* * *

Dean is arguing with himself and it’s making it hard to focus on dinner.

The wedding was exactly what he thought it would be - short, official, and boring. The only saving grace for the whole thing was the look in Cas’ eyes when they slid rings onto one another’s fingers, heavy with something that Dean would call affection if their situation was anything but what it was.

But it’s not, and that’s what’s tripping him up in the middle of an upscale bistro with Cas to his right and his dad and Sam across the table from them.

_ It’s not real. He’s got some sort of angle that you can’t see, or he’s just that good at faking it.  _ No one _ is as good as forgiving as that. It’s not real. _

Then a petulant part of him whines,  _ but he’s gorgeous and sweet and he’s mine now and I want him. _

“What did you say you do for a living, Cas?”

John’s voice scatters Dean’s conflicted thoughts and he lets them go gratefully. Going in circles with himself isn’t getting him anywhere.

Not that he particularly wants to be  _ here, _ either.

Cas’ expression is relaxed and easy as he replies, “I’m a small business owner.”

John nods like Cas hasn’t told him that at  _ least _ three times. “Right, right. Not easy out there for a little store, is it?”

The condescending tone makes Dean’s hackles rise.  _ God dammit, Dad. _ John hadn’t been happy with the idea that Dean had been lying to him, and though he hadn’t said anything about it, he definitely hadn’t been happy that Cas was a man. Dean had enjoyed the way the vein in John’s temple had looked ready to burst immensely, but he’s paying for it now.

Not that one could tell that John is being a dick by Cas’ demeanor. Cas is relaxed, genial, and keeps stealing warm glances at Dean that manage to be obvious enough to be noticed and covert enough to escape comment. He seems comfortable in the overpriced, uptight restaurant. He hasn’t even loosened his tie, even though Dean feels like his is choking him.

Cas just nods over the remnants of their meal. “It certainly hasn’t been easy, but I find it very rewarding.” He turns to smile at Dean. “And I’ve learned a lot from Dean.”

Even though it’s not remotely true, Dean feels his cheeks heat in a blush. “Aw, you knew what you were doing when I came around, Cas.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, son,” John says, just a bit too loud. “Can’t overstate the importance of formal education. This kid, I tell you, Cas, got some sort of complex about taking any sort of compliment.” He smiles, too wide to be real. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell  _ you.” _

Even  _ Sam _ looks embarrassed and upset by now, and Dean is ready to storm out - something he’s never considered doing for himself. But he’s done listening to John be an ass to Cas because he’s got a problem with Dean. All evening he’s ranged from subtle slights to outright insults, all under the thinnest veneer of “welcome the boy to the family, Dean,” never mind that Cas is  _ definitely _ a grown man. 

Cas, though, just keeps a smile on his face. Only a hint of mischief on his expression gives him away.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says mildly, “Dean has never had any trouble  _ taking _ anything I’ve given him at all.”

Sam chokes on his water, the blood drains noticeably from John’s face, and Dean is officially in deep, deep trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Did Cas just make a dick joke at his FIL? Yes. Does Cas regret it? Not a chance.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strolls in six weeks later with MORE ICED COFFEE*

The move from Cas’ (dingy, although Dean never says that aloud) apartment and into Dean’s house goes smoothly. Cas doesn’t have much, just a few bags of clothes and a truly impressive amount of books. The thought of them filling the house on the dark, well-made shelves in Dean’s home office and the living room makes contentedness curl in Dean’s chest.

Once Cas is actually there, Dean expects the anticipation to fade. He’s lived alone for too long and he’s too set in his ways. The invasion of his space will chafe. He’ll be irritated at the things that aren’t his cluttering up the things that are, all the food he doesn’t eat in the fridge, clothes he doesn’t wear in the laundry, music he doesn’t listen to in the air. He knows this and does his best to talk himself down beforehand.

It ends up being for naught, though. Cas slots into Dean’s life with staggeringly little fuss. Part of that is from Cas being so naturally laid-back, of course, but it seems like there was an empty space in Dean’s life that was just waiting for someone (with dark messy hair and bright blue eyes) to fill it.

He tries not to examine that thought too closely.

Cas wakes and leaves the house before Dean, but coffee is always made for him and if Cas makes a real breakfast instead of simple toast or fast food on the way to the shop, he leaves a plate for Dean warming in the oven. Cas’ can of loose tea fit neatly next to Dean’s coffee in the cabinet.

They trade off cooking dinner, which is also an entirely novel experience for Dean. While his own cooking is usually simple and hearty, and is met with enthusiasm from his new husband  _ (husband), _ Cas’ dishes vary wildly. Exotic dishes or more traditional foods simply reimagined, Cas is an excellent cook and Dean has no qualms about making sure he knows it. The way a soft pink blush stains Cas’ cheeks when Dean heaps praise on him has almost nothing to do with it.

In the same vein, Colonel clapped eyes on Cas and hasn’t looked away since. Dean would be mad if he wasn’t in a remarkably similar state.

_ (“Welcome home, Dean.” _

_ “I, uh…” Dean gestures where Colonel is curled up with his head on Cas’ lap. “He doesn’t usually get to get on the furniture.” _

_ Cas’ eyes go wide in dismay. “Oh, gosh, Dean, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” _

_ Dean waves the apologies away. “No, no, it’s fine. It was probably a matter of time, anyway.” _

_ Cas looks relieved and Colonel looks disbelieving. Dean ignores the dog.) _

Cas loves Colonel just as much. With Dean’s bemused permission, he starts taking the big dog to work with him, where he’s reportedly a big hit. A giant donated dog bed has found its way behind the counter at Needs Must, and Colonel is perfectly happy to lay there and stare adoringly at Cas, apparently. Dean has a profound suspicion that his dog has jumped ship.

Still, it’s… Nice. It’s really nice. Knowing the house won’t be empty, planning meals for the nights he’s cooking, watching movies with Cas curled up on the other side of the couch. 

Dean is just having trouble remembering that it’s temporary.

* * *

Cas is worried that he’s adjusted to living with Dean far too quickly, but he can’t seem to stop himself from liking it. A  _ lot. _

Looking for Dean, and being cooked for by him. Seeing their clothes mixed together in the laundry. Their books and movies (and Cas’ knick-knacks) mingle on the shelving. Short conversations that, over the first week they live together, get longer and warmer at the end of each day.

Frankly, Cas loves every bit of it. That’s going to hurt later, but Cas can’t bring himself to worry too much about the future. Not when he’s got Dean’s outrage at his lack of pop culture knowledge and Colonel’s tongue lolling from the side of his mouth as Cas takes them to Needs Must for the day.

* * *

They plan their first date for the first Friday after Cas moves in. He’s a little nervous, but not nearly as nervous as he would have been a week ago. He’s gotten to know Dean a bit better and is a bit more comfortable now.

He still finds himself blushing when Dean carefully wraps his hand around Cas’ as they walk from the car to the Italian restaurant. They’ve talked about public displays of affection and laid down some ground rules. To Cas’ delight, hand-holding and brief, chaste kisses on the cheek or mouth are on the table. Dean admitted to being a fairly physical person, which suits Cas  _ perfectly, _ but they decided to keep it fairly tame.

Still, he can’t help the way he’s beaming at Dean when they enter the restaurant and Dean tells the hostess that they have a reservation. It’s been a long time since Cas got to spend quality one-on-one time with someone who wasn’t Gabe or Meg, someone who was both more and less than a friend. It’s been even longer since someone wanted to put an obvious physical link between themselves and Castiel.

Dean notices Cas’ delight and smiles warmly at him as the hostess leads them to their table. The restaurant is nice, but not so nice that they’re out of place in jeans and sports coats. Dean pulls his chair out for him, which makes Cas blush again, and the two of them settle in.

Once their server comes and goes with their drink orders, an almost awkward silence falls. It’s still comfortable, but it becomes obvious that neither of them knows quite how to start. This is more formal, more structured than their usual chats over dinner at home.

Cas takes a sip of his wine, then smiles sheepishly at Dean. His husband is quite striking in the low lighting the restaurant offers. He’s wearing a forest green button-up and dark jeans, which highlight his eyes and his trim form in an incredibly flattering way. Cas is a lucky man, even if only falsely, even if only for a year.

It’s a distressing thought that Cas has no desire to dwell on. He doesn’t want to put a damper on their first date. Dean has also proven himself to be shockingly perceptive, and the mixed feelings Cas has about their situation is definitely a topic he wants to avoid.

Instead, he smiles again at Dean. “Questions?”

Back and forth question sessions have been an effective ice breaker for them, as well as a good way to get to know one another. Dean relaxes and grins, letting Cas know he made the right call.

“Whose turn is it?” Dean asks.

“I believe it’s yours.”

There are no real rules for Questions. No real limits on the kinds of questions that can be asked, though the growing respect they have for one another means they have no desire to make one another uncomfortable. There is the expectation of honesty, of course, but no expectation of anything else, really. They’re just trying to learn one another. Trying to catch up to the point they’re at in their relationship, as much as their unusual situation will allow.

“Did you have any pets growing up?”

Cas smiles and props his chin in his hand. “Not for real, no. If I found an injured stray, I’d often do my best to nurse it back to health before taking it to a shelter, but that was the extent of it. We lived in a very small apartment, my father and I, barely big enough for the two of us, much less a pet. I would have loved one, though. What about you?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I had enough responsibility without adding more. I had Sam, too, so I was never lonely.”

“What about Colonel?”   


“Well, Colonel was different. I was at a meeting for Winchester Motors and I had Anna with me for some reason. She offered to go pick up a copy from a shop a few streets down so the meeting could go on. When she got back, though, she looked upset, said there was a box down an alley on her way back and she thought she’d heard something. The manager I was meeting with was a big animal lover, so we all booked it out of there. He was hidden under one of the flaps, he must have been the runt, if you can believe it. He was covered in fleas and panting so bad in the heat I thought he’d rupture something. Anna is pretty allergic to dogs, and the other guy said he had too many at home already, so I cut the meeting short and took him to a local vet. I was planning on leaving him there, but when the moment of truth came, I couldn’t do it. He’s been with me ever since.”

Cas can feel himself beaming, but he can’t stop. It may embarrass Dean to admit it, but he really is a big softie.

“Your turn.”

Cas hums and taps his lips absently with his fingers. “What’s your favorite trip you’ve taken?”

Dean leans back in his chair, his eyes distant. “I’ve gone to a lot of exotic places for work, but the summer before my senior year of high school, I convinced my dad to let me take Sam with me on a cross-country road trip. We spent six weeks living out of Baby and cheap motels. We visited tourist traps, looked up local legends, did whatever we wanted. It was probably the best summer of my life, prank wars and the pervading stench of teenage boys notwithstanding.” Cas laughs, and Dean smiles. “You?”

“When Gabe and I were in our early twenties, we went on a road trip to New York City. We were only there for three days. We spent a day on touristy-y things, then we each got to choose how we spent an entire day. Gabe took us shopping - well, window shopping, anyway - to toy stores and candy stores and any other shiny, brightly lit thing that caught his eye. He flirted and charmed his way down Fifth Avenue.”

“And you? What did you choose?”

“Oh, I had us spend the entire day in the Museum of Natural History. We watched a couple of the shows, looked at every exhibit, read every plaque, and joined more than one tour. It was wonderful and peaceful and to hear Gabe tell it, it nearly killed him.”

Dean’s laugh is deep and full-bodied, a sound Cas wants to wrap around himself like a warm blanket.

“Not gonna lie, Cas, I dunno if I would have been too far behind him.”

“Even so,” Cas says. “We had fun. Spending a week attached at the hip to Gabe is a bit much, but it was wonderful. As you said, it was one of the best times of my life.”

They’re interrupted by dinner arriving, and lose a bit of time to eating. The food is simple but good, and the wine complements it perfectly. Cas can feel the flush from the alcohol bloom on his cheeks, and it’s not helped at all by the way Dean reaches across the table once the dishes have been cleared away to tangle their fingers together.

“Your turn,” Cas murmurs while he forcefully reminds himself that this is just to fulfill the PDA and dating part of the contract.

Dean hums thoughtfully before he says, “Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t expect.”

“I can juggle.”

Dean laughs, sharp and loud.  _ “What?” _

“Gabe and I were strange children, and making friends didn’t come naturally to either of us. When we were about ten, we decided that running away to the circus was the only way to escape the teasing, but we had to have a talent. I learned to juggle, and I’ll have you know I got quite good at it. I got up to seven oranges before I realized that I loved my father far too much to leave him.”

Dean is still grinning, and Cas is entranced by it. “That definitely isn’t something I expected, but I can’t say that I can’t see it.”

Cas manages to smile through the butterflies thundering in his belly. “And you?”

“I can pick locks.” At Cas’ raised eyebrow, “That’s from way before my ‘trouble’ as a teen, though. My dad worked a lot, and it only took one time of me and Sammy being locked out of the house until he got home for me to learn. I was pretty good for a while, used it to pick up a few girls. I’m willing to bet that I’m a little rusty now.”

Cas opens his mouth to say something inane about how  _ interesting _ that is (ruthlessly ignoring how inappropriately attractive he finds it) when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Frowning, he pulls it out of his jeans and finds Gabe’s name flashing up at him.

“It’s Gabe,” he says.

Dean is frowning, too. “It might be important, then. Gabe knows it’s date night.”

Gabe does, indeed, and Cas pleaded sincerely with his friend to do nothing to sabotage it. Gabe promised, and he wouldn’t go back on a direct promise to Cas.

Cas slides his thumb across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Cassie, I’m sorry, but you gotta come down to the shop.”

Cas looks up and meets Dean’s concerned gaze.

“Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

“... Cas, someone broke into Needs Must.”


	6. Chapter Six

Dean gets them to Heaven’s Light as fast as he can without actively putting anyone in danger. Baby may not be the most easily maneuverable car, but she gets them down the highway like a bullet. Cas clings to his hand fiercely the whole way there.

When they arrive, two police cars are parked haphazardly in front of the row of shops. The red and blue flashing lights highlight the drawn, tense faces of Gabe and two women talking to the officers. Gabe immediately breaks away to approach Dean and Cas as they park and get out of the Impala.

The shorter man immediately pulls Cas into a fierce hug. “Thank  _ God _ for that stupid fuckin’ dating clause,” he says fervently and to Dean’s surprise. “You might have still been in there.”

Cas pulls away, but only enough to look Gabe in the eye. He allows Gabe to continue to clutch at his arms. “I haven’t worked late all week,” he protests weakly.

_ “Good,” _ Gabe snaps.

Dean frowns at the unnecessary attitude, but Cas just brings his hands up to clasp Gabe’s shoulders and squeeze them. “Hey, now,” he murmurs, “I’m all right. No matter what I find in there, I’m just fine.”

Gabe exhales sharply, then takes another step back and rubs his hands down his face hard before raking his hair back.

“Speaking of, I don’t think you should go in there, Cas. Let the police take their pictures, then let Donna, Jody, and I do the cleanup. You don’t need to see it like this.”

Cas frowns. “I’ll do no such thing. The inventory alone-”

“Then tell me where the books are,” Gabe pleads. His movements are too fast, jittery. They’re making the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. “Cas, I’m telling you-”

Cas ignores him. He walks right by him and makes a beeline for the shop. Dean can see from here that all of the big front windows have been broken and the shop seems like it’s gaping open, almost indecent.

Gabe glares at him. “Will you  _ do _ something, asshole?”

Dean gives him a level look, but says nothing as he follows Cas as quickly as he can without breaking into a trot.

Cas is already talking to one of the officers, showing her his driver’s license. “I own the store, I’d like to see the damage.”

She doesn’t’ appear to be moved as she scans Cas’ identification. “And I understand that, sir, but-”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says as he gets to Cas’ side. “Is there a problem here?”

The officer’s eyes narrow and she gives him a once-over. “And you are?”

“This is my husband, Dean Winchester,” Cas says stiffly. His spine is straight as a board, and fine lines around his eyes reveal the stress weighing down on him. Dean hates them.

“Is there a reason we can’t go into the shop?” Dean asks. He places a protective hand at the small of Cas’ back, unsure of his welcome in a tense, unforeseen situation such as this. Cas leans into the touch.

The officer, a short blonde woman with steel grey eyes, doesn’t soften a bit. “We’re still collecting evidence. You could contaminate the scene.”

“It’s all right, Stella,” one of the women Dean spotted earlier says as she jogs over. “They won’t touch anything, and I’ll keep an eye on them.”

The officer, Stella, huffs in irritation and gives them the stink-eye, but nods and steps away to confer with her partner.

Cas’ shoulders loosen just a bit when the woman, pretty with short dark hair and sharply intelligent eyes, turns to them. “Thank you, Jody.”

She waves it away. “They’re just doing their jobs, but the techs have pretty much wrapped up in there.” She looks at Dean. “So this is the new husband, then?”   


Cas blinks. “Oh, I’m sorry, how terribly rude of me. Yes, Jody, this is Dean. Dean, this is Jody Mills-Hanscum. She owns Mills Security across the lot.”

Dean shoots Cas an incredulous look as he shakes Jody’s hand (Jody has a firm, confident handshake that makes Dean like her right away). “I think you’ve got an excuse to forget your manners just this once, Cas.” He smiles at Jody. “My pleasure, just the same. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Afraid I can’t say the same.” At his wince, Jody waves him off, too. “Now’s not the time to get into all of that. If you guys want to see it, we can go in, but I’ll be honest, it’s not pretty.” Her eyes are on Cas, solemn and concerned. “No shame in letting us take care of this for you, Cas.”

Cas just shakes his head and gestures for Jody to lead the way. The only sign he gives of being shaken is the way he lances his fingers tightly with Dean’s again as they enter the shop.

It was obvious that the big windows were shattered, but the amount of glass on the floor is almost shocking. The entire little shop has been trashed. Broken merchandise joins with the shards of glass to cover the floor, pots and handmade signs and mugs and a hundred other things. Clothes and linens are torn and strewn about. Throw pillows have been slashed open so bits of fluff are everywhere, too. The jewelry display has been destroyed and the cash register has fallen through and rests haphazardly among the necklaces, bracelets, and watches.

Almost worse than anything is the walls. The art that had been hanging up for sale has been torn down, of course, and in its place is vandalism. Derogatory language, garden-variety and specifically homophobic alike, are spray-painted in big, shaky letters on the back wall. More nasty phrases adorn the other walls.

The air of  _ malevolence _ to the destruction is what unsettles Dean. It would, of course, be terrible no matter the circumstance, but there’s a feeling of directed violence, a personal attack on Cas and his shop specifically, that raises the hair on the back of Dean’s neck again.

When he looks back at Cas, he’s not surprised to see that the other man is trembling and tears are standing in those pretty blue eyes Dean likes so much.

He doesn’t think about the contract or any of the clauses written into it. He doesn’t think about how he and Cas are still basically strangers. He doesn’t think about the act they have to sell when they’re in public. He just doesn’t want to look at that wretched expression on Cas’ face for one more second than absolutely necessary.

Cas all but collapses against him as soon as Dean has his arms around him. Dean holds him tight and tucks Cas’ face into his neck. He rocks them gently back and forth for a while, murmuring comfort into Cas’ ear as the other man shakes.

When Cas finally lifts his head minutes later, Dean cups his face in one hand while keeping his other arm firmly around Cas’ waist.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart, I swear it.”

Cas sniffles. “It’s just- It’s always been so  _ safe, _ Dean.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He presses a kiss to Cas’ forehead, speaks softly with his lips against Cas’ skin. “We’ll figure something out. Hire Mrs. Mills-Hanscum for security, maybe.”

“That’s Jody to you,” the woman in question says from Dean’s left, “and I think hiring me is a swell idea.”

Cas turns to give her a watery smile. It makes Dean’s heart clench in his chest.

Even Jody, who appears to be as tough as nails, softens at the sight. “Did you ever get around to installing security cameras, Cas?”

Cas winces. “I- No, no. It’s always been so  _ safe, _ I just never really entertained the idea that I would  _ need _ them.”

Jody holds a hand up. “I get it, kiddo, no blame here. Something to think about is all.”

Dean scowls. “Oh, there will be cameras put up just as soon as you can get them up, Jody, if I have anything to say about it.”

He expects at least a token argument from Cas, but the other man just buries his face in Dean’s shoulder meekly. Something deep within Dean is bristling at the thought of his husband, regardless of how he came to be as such, being threatened in any way. It’s alpha male bullshit, but he has no desire to repress it just now.

Instead, he cradles the back of Cas’ head and kisses his temple. “Let’s go home.”

“You’ll want to go around the side,” Jody says, voice low and kind. “The officers out front will want a statement.”

Dean scowls again. “And they can get one tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to call the insurance company, too,” Cas murmurs. “And someone to replace the windows.”

“Not tonight,” Dean says firmly. “All of that can wait. Tonight, I’m taking you home.”

* * *

Cas is still worryingly pliant and subdued on the way back to the house. Dean holds his hand, but Cas’ fingers are lax. He stares at nothing through the windshield, clearly a million miles away.

When they get home, Cas lets Dean lead him into the house without a word. He rouses a bit when Colonel greets them, whining softly and nosing at Cas’ hand, but does nothing more than stroke the dog’s head twice.

Dean feels a deep kinship with Colonel as they herd Cas toward his bedroom. The two of them hover at the doorway, all but useless as Cas looks around his room, dazed.

Abruptly, Cas speaks. “Will you- No, no, I’m sorry.” He cuts himself off just as suddenly.

“What is it?” Dean barely holds back the offer to do anything at all for Cas that sits at the tip of his tongue.

Cas shuffles, looking shy and embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing, really, I just…” He sighs. “Would you… Consider sleeping in here with me tonight? It’s- I just- I know it’s wildly inappropriate-”

Tension he wasn’t aware of leaks out of Dean all at once. “Cas,  _ Cas,” _ he says, interrupting the nervous but endearing babble. “C’mon, of course I will. Gimme five to get ready for bed, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Cas swallows hard and nods. His eyes are huge and beseeching. It takes everything Dean has in him to walk away.

He hurries through letting the dog out, changing, washing his face and hands, and brushing his teeth. It still feels like everything takes way too long. By the time he’s leading Colonel back to Cas’ bedroom, he’s struck with the worry that Cas will have already changed his mind.

When he gets there, though, Cas is laying on his back on one side of his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s changed out of his date clothes and into a threadbare t-shirt. His hands are curled into the blanket on his chest, fingers clenched around the fabric.

Dean makes his way to the other side of the bed slowly. Silence and tension bear down on him as he slides beneath the covers and turns the bedside lamp off. He lays back and stares at the ceiling, too, his arms lying straight down at his sides.

_ This is weird, it’s awkward and- _

He gets no more than a few seconds to fret before he suddenly has an armful of sniffling, trembling Cas. He catches and holds him close, only faltering in surprise for a moment. He turns onto his side and wraps himself around Cas, shushing him and gently petting wherever he can reach.

“I’ve gotcha, Cas, it’s okay. Shh, I’ve gotcha, we’re gonna be okay.”

It rends at Dean’s heart to see Cas fall apart this way, and he’s honored to be the one who catches him, holds him together. Colonel jumps onto the bed on Cas’ other side. Dean has never felt like scolding the dog less.

It doesn’t take Cas long to fall asleep, the wine from dinner and the shock of the evening working together to knock him out. Cradling his husband close and listening to his slow, even breaths, it takes Dean a lot longer.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is actually made of iced coffee now* 'Sup, y'all? Bet y'all thought I was dead.

On a rare morning that they’re getting ready for the day at the same time, Dean watches Cas pack lunches for the two of them and argues with himself.

_ It wouldn’t change anything. It won’t help. Whoever trashed the shop did it when they knew Cas wouldn’t be around. It makes no sense to want to keep him close. It won’t do anything but appease your ego, you idiot. _

Even so, even though he’s right when he tells himself he’s being stupid, he hears himself say, “Cas, let me take you to work.”

Cas pauses, caught off-guard in the act of tucking napkins into the side of Dean’s lunchbox. “Well, that would be all right, I suppose. I could ask Meg or Donna for a ride home. But why-”

“No, I’ll come get you,” Dean says quickly. His cheeks heat in a blush, but he doesn’t try to backtrack.

Cas’ smile is warm and fond, his eyes soft with understanding.

“Of course, Dean. Thank you.”

* * *

When he pulls up to Needs Must that evening, Cas is still inside. Dean can’t see him from the parking lot, but he sees Colonel prowling around inside, still investigating the new smells left by the workers who installed the new windows and security system. The dog’s movement is loose and relaxed, so Dean doesn’t worry.

When he gets out of Baby to track down his husband, he’s waylaid by a velvety voice calling out for him.

“Winchester!”

A short, voluptuous woman in a lacy top, tight jeans, and shitkicker boots waves him over to the shop next door to Cas’. The sign above the door says Crossroads in black, flowing script.

_ Meg, _ Dean’s brain supplies, one of Cas’ best friends. Feisty, apparently, and rough around the edges. Unsure of how to prepare for this meeting, but unwilling to flee into Needs Must to avoid it, Dean obediently joins her on the sidewalk.

He smiles and holds out his hand. “You must be Meg.”

She accepts his handshake with a smirk and a firm grip of her own. “My reputation must precede me, then.”

“Cas has only told me good things.”

“Then he’s lying to you,” she says bluntly, grinning when Dean gives a surprised laugh. She sobers quickly, though. “How’s he holding up?”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, demolishing the last of the gel he applied in the morning. “He’s okay. A little quieter than usual, I guess, but I think he’s still processing.”

Meg nods. “Clarence always has gotten quiet when the bad shit happens to him. He’s hell on wheels taking care of other people, but he’s never gotten the hang of doing it for himself.”

Dean has found within himself a deep yearning to learn every tidbit about Cas that he can. He is also discovering a distinct lack of guilt when it comes to the idea of grilling the man’s friends.

“You’ve known Cas since high school, right?”  _ Subtle as a freight train. _

From the smirk on Meg’s face, she agrees with his assessment, but she relents. “Yeah, we go way back.”

“To be honest, I can’t imagine him as a kid. I’ve seen the pictures, of course,” he says quickly, realizing how strange it sounds, “but I can’t really wrap my head around it.”

Meg hums, glancing into the windows of Needs Must. “He’s always been like he is now. Quiet, real polite, kind of a square, really. The nicest damn person I’d ever seen, I was so confused by it. I was a grade-A bitch when we first met. Not as bad as some of the other assholes we went to school with, but I wasn’t real nice about it. Clarence didn’t care, though, just kept on being kind and helping people out. I was so focused on finding out what the hell was wrong with him I never even realized we’d become friends.” She smiles. “I’ve been sticking around to kick anyone’s ass who wants to mess with him ever since.”

The words don’t land on deaf ears, and Dean smiles. “I’m glad he has people in his life to watch out for him. He needs it.”

Meg stares at him evenly for a beat, then nods. “Yeah, he does,” she says thoughtfully.

Before Dean can parse out what  _ that _ means, Cas comes out of Needs Must with The Colonel on a leash and a big, broad man at his back. Cas’ face lights up with a smile when he sees Dean. The stranger’s face seems to be carved from granite.

“Dean!” Cas says brightly, hurrying over to press a warm kiss to Dean’s cheek. Dean grins, too, trying to remind himself that it’s all for show. It doesn’t work.

“How was work?” Cas asks, blissfully unaware of Dean’s inner turmoil.

Dean can’t help but smile down at him. “Uneventful. Meetings and paperwork. You?” He wraps an arm around Cas’ slim waist.

Cas beams and leans into him. “Uneventful as well, I’m afraid. Donations and customers.”

“Don’t forget all the well-wishers who came to see you today,” Meg drawls.

“And lookie-loos,” the man who exited the shop behind Cas says, a thread of protective darkness in his voice. He’s moved to stand next to Meg, close enough that their arms press together.

“Oh, gosh, where are my manners?” Cas says. “Dean, this is Meg and Zeke, some of my closest friends. They run Crossroads, the magic shop next door. Guys, this is my husband, Dean.”

Meg smirks. “We’ve met.  _ Finally,” _ she adds pointedly, and Dean isn’t sure the ire is aimed at himself or Cas.

Cas groans. “Meg, please.”

Dean offers his hand to Zeke and is not surprised at all at the way the other man tries to crush his hand. Neither of them say a thing about it out loud, but Dean doesn’t back down. He’s thrilled that Cas’ friends are rallying around to defend him, but he’s not going to give ground to grade school intimidation tactics, either.

He meets Zeke’s glare evenly for a few moments before Cas taps at his chest lightly. He turns his attention to his husband. 

Cas is smiling, but his eyes are worried and his face is tight with exhaustion. Though the shop isn’t physically difficult to keep up with most days, Dean knows that the emotional strain of seeing it changed by cameras, new windows, and the new construction smell that still clings to Cas’ clothes was probably enough to wear Cas down fast.

He turns his smile onto Meg and Zeke. “Sorry to take him and run,” he lies through his teeth, “but we’ve made dinner plans and I don’t want to be late.”

Meg smiles back, and Dean might be imagining it, but it seems a few degrees warmer than when she first called him over. “Go ahead, newlyweds,” she says, a sort of benign acid in her voice. “Take care of him.” 

Zeke doesn’t say anything, just stares balefully at Dean. If they were in a movie, he’d be giving Dean the “I’m watching you” sign. As it is, he hardly needs it. 

Dean gives both of them a sharp nod, then turns Cas toward Baby. The Colonel follows easily, jumping into the backseat when Dean opens it for him.

As they settle in the car, Cas turns to him. “What are our dinner plans?”

“What? Oh, no, I don’t have any plans. You just looked tired, sweetheart.”

Cas stares at him for a few beats, face unreadable and eyes wide, until Dean says hesitantly, “... Cas?”

Cas blinks, then relaxes and beams again at Dean. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, as they settle back into a rhythm, Dean continues to meet Cas' friends and chosen family. They’re all happy to meet him, to feed the two of them, and to coo over The Colonel, who has completely jumped ship and just lovingly follows Cas everywhere he goes. 

And it’s nice. It’s nice to have a guaranteed few minutes with Cas at the beginning of each day, since Cas hasn’t asked Dean to stop taking him to work and Dean has no intentions of stopping on his own. It’s nice to collect Cas at the end of the day, too, to listen to him talk about the interesting donations that came in, the customers, the conversations he’s had with his friends. It’s nice to chat with those same friends, to get to know them and what they do, to really understand what it is he and Cas saved with their contract.

It just makes Dean feel like there’s a fifty-pound lead weight on his chest, is all.

Heaven’s Light Shopping Center isn’t just where Cas owns a business, it’s Cas’  _ home. _ Over and over, he hears stories from each one of the quirky, kind people who make up HLSC about how Cas saw them in need, took them in, loved them, and helped them get back on their feet. Meg, who disappeared after high school and came back with Zeke, crashed on Cas’ couch until he convinced her to buy the shop next to hers. Jody and Donna fled rampant homophobia and discrimination to come here, where Cas offered support and guidance to starting up  _ both _ of their small business, Oh, You Betcha and Mills Security. Aaron has his used bookstore, where he and Cas commiserated over late-night coffee and trying to pull a business into the twenty-first century after inheriting it from someone who had no interest in doing so. There’s Ash, who from what Dean can gather showed up to help Cas with a point-of-sale system crash, only accepted payment in PBR, and never got around to leaving, and of course there’s Gabe.

This is Cas’  _ family, _ and Dean is starting to get a sick feeling in his gut when he’s forced to lie to them to cover his own ass. He has no illusions about who’s the bad guy in this scenario, and if it comes to light, he knows that Cas will be protected and cared for while Dean himself is vilified. 

_ Fuck, maybe they’re right to. _ It’s obvious that Cas has goodness leaking out of his damn pores, it just spills out all over everything he does and says. What kind of bastard takes advantage of someone like that? Forces someone so decent and kind to lie to their friends, steals a year of their life while dangling the well-being of themselves and their loved ones over their heads?

He… Just tries not to think about it too hard.

* * *

He’s reviewing a profit margin report from one of the offices in southern Missouri and trying not to think too hard about his own precarious morality when his father calls him into his office again.

The queasiness he feels is much more extreme than it was the last time John summoned him. He hasn’t spoken much with his father since the fraught dinner after the wedding. He’s been so busy with Cas, especially after the break-in, that he hasn’t been spending much over the required forty hours a week in the office. Surely the meeting can’t be about that, but he can’t shake the vague sense of foreboding that settles over his shoulders as he walks into his father’s office.

John smiles that empty smile again, but it doesn’t hit quite as hard as it used to. He stays seated and waves to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Dean, thanks for coming by.”

Dean sits. “What can I do for you, sir?”

John leans forward and steeples his fingers together, resting his elbows on his desk. “I’m going to cut right to the chase. In light of your recent…  _ Commitment, _ the board has reconsidered it’s stance.”

All of Dean’s worries about what kind of person he is crumble away at his father’s words. “They have?” A little voice in his head asks how much more “settled” he really is now that he’s married, if his life has changed significantly at all outside of the addition of Cas, but he ignores it to focus on John, who nods.

“They have. Now, I don’t know about a  _ man _ instead of a  _ wife, _ of course, but they seem to be happy. Well, maybe not ‘happy,’ you know, but at least convinced that you’ve done your growing up.”

_ And the fact that I’m over thirty years old doesn’t mean I’ve “done my growing up?” _ Dean tries to ignore the sour thought, but the shine of the moment is gone.

“That’s great,” he says, knowing it falls flat and not being able to help it.

“Of course, of course,” John says, almost insultingly dismissive. “Now that we’ve got all that hashed out, the board has decided to go ahead and move forward with the timeline for my retirement.”

Dean sits up a little straighter and feels his eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Oh, that’s, uh, that’s great, sir,” he says with more enthusiasm. He knows his father really has been looking forward to getting out from behind a desk and starting his retirement. He’s happy for him, almost happier than he is for himself.

“It is,” John agrees. Dean wonders if his dad has always sounded this much like a blowhard and if Sammy has noticed it before. “The board wants to throw a shindig, really announce this thing and get the ball rolling so the transition will be smooth going. The retirement party is this Friday, I expect you to be there.”

Dean opens his mouth to agree amiably, like he always does. What comes out is, “I’m bringing Cas, you know.”

John’s face doesn’t so much as twitch, but he radiates bitter displeasure. “Of course you’ll want to bring your partner.”

“My  _ husband _ and I will be sure to be there,” Dean agrees, putting a subtle emphasis on the word. He doesn’t know where this attitude is coming from, but he has his suspicions that it’s got untamed dark hair and bright blue eyes.

* * *

“That’s wonderful news!” 

Cas sounds so genuinely pleased for him that Dean feels his cheeks start to heat in a blush. They’re on their way home after being thoroughly stuffed full of food by Donna, chatting with Jody and Meg, and getting the death-stare from Zeke. Cas assures him that that’s just Zeke’s face, but Dean remains wary.

He wills his face to cool, but it’s futile. Instead, he grins and glances over at his husband. “Yeah, it’s, uh… Kinda what I’ve been waiting for for a long time.”

“Of course it is! I’m very glad the board recognizes how hard you work, even if it is a bit silly they waited until you got married to see it.”

One of the things that makes Cas such a damn good person, Dean thinks idly, is that there’s no bitterness or edge in his voice when he talks about their sham of a marriage. Cas has somehow found a way to put his anger, if he ever had any, aside and be truly happy for Dean’s advancement in his career.

Almost happier than Dean is for himself, really. He’s happy, of course, but it all seems a bit… Blown out of proportion, maybe. He’ll get over it once he and Anna move to the big offices on the top floor and he takes over, he’s sure.

He pushes the thought of his strange lack of enthusiasm out of his mind. “So you’re okay with coming with me on Friday?” 

Cas smiles again. “Of course! I don’t know if I have anything to wear, but I’m sure Gabe can find something suitably formal for me.”

Dean’s heart clenches, but not for the reason he thought it would. “Cas, you don’t have to go.”

Cas tilts his head and considers Dean for a moment. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Dean thinks carefully about what he says next, loathe to let Cas think for even a moment that he’s not exactly what Dean wants. “The people up at WM, especially the board and upper management who will be at the party, they... Aren’t like the people at Heaven’s Light. They’re shallow, and-and mean, and kind of terrible? Some of them are homophobic, and they won’t be able to keep their damn mouths shut about it. They’re awful, Cas, and you’re so great, I don’t really want to… Subject you to them,” he finishes lamely. The blush is back full force.

But Cas just smiles serenely. “I can handle myself, Dean, and you’ll be there, too. You won’t leave my side.” He lays a slim hand on Dean’s arm in earnestness. “I want to be there to support you.”

_ Fuck. _ Not  _ I want to present a good image, _ or  _ won’t it look better if I’m there, _ or even  _ there will be free food, right? _ No, no, Cas really,  _ truly _ just wants to be there to support him.

It sinks in for Dean right then that he is really, truly, terribly deep trouble when it comes to the man sitting next to him. It’s going to break Dean’s heart when he has to let Cas go. He’s so far gone that “too deep” passed right by him  _ weeks _ ago.

He dredges up a shaky smile for his husband and covers Cas’ hand with his own to squeeze it gently. “All right. I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

* * *

_ This is just as awful as I thought it would be. _

The retirement party is tastefully decorated, impeccably catered, well attended, and indomitably boring. Dean has a headache starting just below his left eye from smiling benignly so many times tonight, and he regrets bringing Cas here deeply, even if Dean himself did have to attend.

He’s certain that Cas must feel the same way, but it’s impossible to tell from looking at him. He’s in a dark navy suit with a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons undone in lieu of a tie. He did his best to comb his hair, but it did what it usually does and is comfortably wild now, although the gel in it makes it look deliberate rather than defiant. He looks delicious, and he’s the saving grace of the night.

They’re dancing now for the third or fourth time tonight. It has caused a stir every time they’ve done it tonight, surrounded as they are by such a “traditional” crowd, but the mischief in Cas’ eyes when the whispers start draws Dean to him, convinces him to wrap an arm around that slim waist and twirl him back out onto the dance floor.

“You see, Dean,” Cas murmurs, “it’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean snorts and tightens his hand around where it’s tangled with Cas’. “It’s worse, Cas, and you know it.”

Cas laughs. “Mr. Adler didn’t  _ quite _ know what to do with us, did he?”

Dean joins Cas, chuckling when he thinks of Zach’s consternation when neither of them rose to claim the obvious bait he threw out with his less than subtle homophobic remarks. He outright fled when Cas feigned confusion and asked him to explain one, which sent Dean into the men’s room to collect himself before he laughed out loud in the face of the board of directors.

It’s been a miserable night, and it would have been a complete loss without Cas by his side. Cas doesn’t seem awkward here, or strange, or over kind and warm. Here, among sharks, Cas is sharp and witty, and always seems to be laughing at a joke that no one around him can hear.

No one but Dean, that is.

Dean opens his mouth to thank Cas for the fiftieth time tonight (ostensibly for coming with him, but really for being exactly who he is) when a voice cuts through the crowd, quite a bit louder than it needs to be.

_ “Castiel? Castiel Novak?” _

Every bit of fluid, warm good humor in Cas vanishes instantly. The body pressed to Dean’s goes stiff with shock, and those blue eyes Dean likes  _ (loves) _ so much go wide with panic. Instinctively, Dean tightens his hold on Cas and squeezes his hand gently again.

“Cas?” he whispers, not looking around for whoever is still shouting for Cas.

“It’s…” Cas swallows hard. “It’s Michael.”

Dean doesn’t  _ actually _ growl like a vampire in a teenage chick-flick, but he definitely understands the urge now. He continues to ignore the person still shouting, pushing his way through the crowd toward them, and focuses entirely on Cas.

“Do you want to get out of here, sweetheart? You don’t need to talk to him.”

Cas shakes his head, but the way he leans into Dean’s embrace belies how calm his exterior is. “No, of course not. We can’t leave yet, it’s far too early.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass how early it is or how it will look if we bail,” Dean insists, and is surprised to find that it’s quite true. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, Cas. Your comfort is more important to me than this shitty party.”

The smile on Cas’ face, while still wan, warms. “Thank you, Dean.”

Before Dean can reply, the voice who has been  _ obnoxiously _ calling for them finally seems to arrive. 

“Castiel, did you not hear me? Good God, man, I was shouting!”

Dean turns to take in Michael Angelos for the first time. Blue eyes and dark hair, but that’s where the similarities to Cas end. Where Cas exudes warmth and softness, a kind of gentle strength, Michael is all brittle angles, an almost unhealthily trim physique, and a strong patrician nose that it’s too easy to see him looking down. His own suit is well-made, perhaps, but not quite as well made as Cas' and definitely not as fitted. 

All in all, Dean finds Michael quite lacking.

“I did, thank you,” Cas is saying. “How are you, Michael?”

In the face of Cas’ serenity, Michael seems to flounder. “Ah, well, good! Good. Got that promotion I was angling for before you and I had our little spat, so that’s that.”

Cas smiles. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

Michael has to fish for something to say again, and Dean is viciously pleased that he was clearly looking for Cas to cause a scene and now it’s obvious that he’s the one doing it instead. Dean can’t imagine what Cas saw in this guy, Cas quite obviously needs someone much better, someone who will take his needs into account, someone who can verbally spar with Gabe or chat with Donna while Cas finishes counting the drawer. He can’t see Michael doing any of those things, or fitting in at all with the HLSC.

Not like he can see himself there, anyway.

Finally, Michael turns to Dean, a shark’s smile on his face and no idea that Dean has been swimming in these murky waters his whole life. He’s certainly not going to be taken unawares by some upstart who hurt Cas.

“And you, of course, are Mr. Winchester! Congratulations on the upcoming move up in the world! How do you know Cas? Or did you meet here tonight?”

An unholy glee fills Dean when he glances to Cas and sees a strained sort of amusement in his face. Cas gives him a tiny nod and leans into his embrace again, letting Dean hold him tight with a possessive arm around him.

Dean smiles his own vicious smile at Michael. “Cas is my husband, actually. And I’m sorry, I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you. Who are you, again?” Blunt to the point of rudeness, but Dean doesn’t actually have the urge to be polite to Michael, so he’s okay with it.

Michael’s face pales. “... Husband?” he says weakly.

“Married just a few weeks ago,” Dean purrs. “Once my father’s retirement was announced and I was up for CEO, we decided it was time to make it official.” He turns to look down to Cas and doesn’t have to fake the goopy look on his face. “Cas finally agreed to make an honest man out of me.”

Cas smiles up at him, all warmth and his solid body against Dean’s as he beams. “It was, and still is, my honor.”

Dean turns back to Michael, who hasn’t caught the hint and hit the road yet. Dean is more than willing to give him a little push. “And your name, again?”

“Michael Angelos,” the man says, clearly trying to rally. Dean doesn’t know what he wanted out of this interaction, or what he thought when he saw Cas again. Maybe for Cas to be devastated, for Cas to be wary or hurt still, but if Dean is never able to give Cas anything else, he’s glad he gave him the chance to snatch this interaction out of Michael’s devious, manipulative hands and make it something of his own.

Dean’s eyebrows go up as if remembering something.  _ “Ah, _ Angelos. Yes, Cas has mentioned you.”

Michael’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Did he, now?”

Dean feels a stab of pity for the other man. “Some sort of business deal that fell through, didn’t it?” he offers, squeezing Cas’ waist gently.

Michael nods, almost feverish in his eagerness to hide the true nature of he and Cas’ relationship. “It was, it was. Glad to see you back on your feet, Cas.”

Cas’ own eyebrows go up, and any feeling other than pure contempt for the man in front of him dissipates immediately out of Dean.  _ Fucker. _

“Actually,” Dean says smoothly, “Cas has never  _ not _ been on his feet. Runs circles around me in business, right before he runs circles around me at home. See, I was kind of a  _ raging asshole _ when we met, but  _ some _ of us realize that we’re being  _ utter shitheads _ about the best thing that’s ever happened to us. Then not  _ only _ do we  _ clean up our fucking acts, _ but we put a ring on it to make sure everyone knows  _ why.” _

Dean’s voice has remained even, almost friendly, throughout his little tirade, but Michael is paling again as if he’s threatening the man.  _ Good, _ a vindictive part of him thinks,  _ he hurt Cas. _

_ “Dean,” _ Cas breathes, and when Dean looks down at him, the awestruck, delighted affection in his gaze almost bowls Dean over, and does quite a bit to get rid of the ire he feels toward Michael Agenlos.

“Every word of it’s true, baby,” he says hoarsely, his eyes flicking down to Cas’ mouth, suddenly fervently wanting it against his own.

Before he can act on that impulse or make Michael even more uncomfortable than he probably is, one of the valets from the parking garage appears next to Michael, wringing his hands and looking wildly out of place in the well-dressed crowd.

“James?” Cas asks, frowning at the young man. Affection bubbles up in Dean’s chest.  _ Of course he knows the valet’s name. _

“Mr. Winchester, sir, I-I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s okay, James,” Cas says soothingly, stepping away from Dean to approach the nervous valet. “What’s wrong? I’m sure Dean will take care of whatever it is.”

“It’s-it’s… It’s your Impala, sir.” 

Dean frowns. “My car? What about it?”

“It… It’s been vandalized, sir.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:** Derogatory slurs at the beginning of the chapter.

_ Faggot _

_ Cocksucker _

_ Bitch _

All words that were scrawled on the walls of his beloved shop, and now Cas must read them carved into the side of Dean's beautiful, equally beloved car. The sight makes him almost as sick as the damage to Needs Must did.

Cas glances over at Dean, who's staring intently at the screen in the security office of the hotel where the party is being held. His husband's body is as tense as a bowstring, his face hard in anger. Cas aches to press kisses to that face, to do his best to soften the anger, to comfort the hurt that must be hidden underneath everything else.

Instead, because their marriage isn't real and they're surrounded by people Dean works with to boot, Cas turns to look back at the same screen Dean is glaring at.

It's time-lapsed, grainy, and black-and-white, but the story plays clearly enough across the screen. What appears to be a tall, muscular man, wearing dark clothes and a mask, prowls close to the Impala not long after the valet parks her. He crouches behind her and stills, then doesn’t seem to move at all for long minutes. His big body is contorted strangely, but he doesn’t appear to feel any discomfort.

“This part is…Boring, long,” the security officer says grimly. “He stays right where he is for hours, until about forty minutes ago.”

While he speaks, he fast forwards through a few hours of footage. The hair on the back of Cas’ neck stands up, staring at the big man who doesn’t move at all. It’s unsettling, and the eerie feeling has him unconsciously pressing closer to Dean before he remembers all of the reasons he shouldn’t.

He doesn’t get the chance to correct himself. Dean’s arm winds tightly around his waist and holds him close, though he never takes his eyes off of the screen in front of them. Cas feels his face heating in a blush, but he leans into his husband’s warmth.

The officer finally presses the play button. “This is where it gets… Disturbing.”

Finally, there’s movement from the man. Very quickly and with no visible provocation, he becomes agitated. His limbs twitch and shudder, his head whips back and forth as if in denial. Quite suddenly he surges to his feet. Cas gasps when he sees that part of the reason the arrangement of his limbs seemed so strange is that he’s been holding a baseball bat at his side, hidden from the camera’s view.

When he attacks the car, it’s vicious and violent. He smashes the windows, beats against the hood, trunk, and doors, and hits the rims of the tires, as well. When he seems to tire himself of that, which seems to Cas to take quite a while but can, in reality, be no more than around ten minutes, he takes a knife from his belt, slashes the tires, then starts carving hateful messages into the paint.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Dean says roughly, his hand on Cas’ hip almost bruisingly tight. Cas says nothing, just lends his own warmth to Dean and hopes it provides a modicum of comfort.

“I’m  _ so _ sorry, Mr. Winchester,” the security officer says, obviously agitated and nervous himself. “We pride ourselves on keeping an eye on the garage, but it looks like we-”

“I don’t blame you for this, Jerry,” Dean says firmly, seemingly coming out of his thoughts. “This person is pretty clearly disturbed, and had powerful motivation, to boot.”

Cas frowns. “Vandalization?”

Dean doesn’t look at Cas, just keeps staring darkly at the monitor. “No, sweetheart,” he drawls softly, “people don’t bring knives with them just to vandalize cars. Not when they have baseball bats.”

Shock rocks Cas and his mouth drops open.  _ “What? _ You think he-”

Dean squeezes Cas’ hip gently, rendering him quiet. He looks at Jerry, straightening up. “Go ahead and call the police to file a report, Jerry. I’m taking my husband home.”

“Of course, Mr. Winchester!” Jerry says emphatically, eager to prove himself competent. Cas smiles wanly at him, still reeling from Dean’s deduction, and lets Dean take care of the details of arranging a ride home for them and arranging a tow for Baby.

_ What  _ was _ he doing with a knife? _ What happened at Needs Must was bad enough, but the thought that someone deliberately set out to hurt Dean or himself is mystifying. Not just that, but someone was dedicated enough to the cause of harming them to wait for  _ hours _ before getting frustrated and leaving. A terrible combination of fear, anger, and a morbid curiosity is making Cas nauseous with stomach cramps.

When they get home after an awkward ride with a driver service, Colonel greets them as happily as he does each of the rare times he’s left home alone, which is very soothing for Cas. They don’t bother undressing, both of them going to the kitchen without needing to discuss it. Cas settles at the table, Colonel’s head on his knee, and watches as Dean pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

Dean meets him at the table, sitting across from him and silently pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey into each glass before sliding one over to Cas. Cas obediently takes a sip and waits for Dean to speak.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, he does. “Cas, I’m worried about you.”

Cas sighs. “It seems like your concern isn’t without merit.”

Dean looks up at him. His knuckles are white around the whiskey glass. “Cas, I… I want to hire someone for you.”

Cas laughs softly. “What, like a bodyguard?” His smile fades when he sees how serious Dean is.

_ “Exactly _ like a bodyguard,” his husband confirms.

“Dean, no, that’s preposterous.”

Dean scowls. “Is it? Sweetheart, you remember what the shop looked like? What Baby looks like now? Someone wants to do that to  _ you, _ Cas, and I-”

“Oh, now, hang on. We don’t know that they want to do it to me, specifically, and-”

“How much more proof do you need?”

Cas sighs. He’s not angry, per se, but he’s frustrated. When Dean gets worked up, it’s almost impossible to reason with him, and Cas is quite sure that this is the most serious thing his husband has been worked up over since they got married. 

“Dean, I understand where you’re coming from, but-”

“Great!” Dean says with false cheer. “Then it’s settled.” He knocks back the rest of his drink.

Without thinking, Cas pushes his tumbler towards his husband. Whiskey’s not really his drink, and Dean will definitely want two before bed. “Have you considered,” he says gently a Dean pulls the glass toward himself, “that I might not be the intended target of these incidents?”

Dean frowns. “Your shop, then an event you were attending? Sounds like you’ve got a pretty big target on your back to me, baby.”

Cas ignores the flare of warmth the term of endearment sends to his belly. “My shop wasn’t attacked until after we got married,” he says serenely, “and if you’ll recall, I didn’t attend tonight’s party alone.”

Dean’s face darkens as he thinks, then he shakes his head and takes another sip of Cas’ drink before standing and beginning to bustle around the kitchen. “That just means it’s even more important to make sure you don’t get caught alone if I’m the target and not you. I can’t always be with you, and even if I could, that might be the problem.”

Cas smiles when he realizes that Dean has gotten the kettle out and on the stove and is now preparing the loose leaf mint tea Cas likes when he has trouble sleeping in an infuser. “I understand that this is a fraught circumstance, but-”

“I’m not open for negotiation on this, Cas,” Dean says firmly, pulling down one of Cas’ favorite mismatched mugs from the shop. 

Cas arches an eyebrow, the effect of which is lost on Dean, whose back is turned. “You cannot just  _ dictate _ what I do with my life, Dean.”

He manages to keep hold of his resolve even when Dean pauses, then sighs, grips the counter with both hands, and leans forward against it. Some of the rigidity of his spine and shoulders droops, and he hangs his head.

“I know, Cas,” he murmurs, still not turning around. Dean has trouble with expressing his worry, his anger, and Cas doesn’t force the issue, but it makes his heart ache.

“I know I can’t,” Dean continues, “I just… It would kill me if I was the reason anything happened to you.” 

“Do you think I feel any differently about you?”

At that, Dean finally turns and smiles ruefully at Cas, still leaning back against the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. “No, I know you don’t.”

Cas smiles sweetly. “Excellent. Then you’ll have no objection when I say that if we hire someone for me, we hire someone for you, as well.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and his face smooths out in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Cas, I-”

Cas crosses his arms. “I won’t let you hire a bodyguard for me if you don’t get one for yourself, too, Dean.”

A few beats of silence pass before Dean sags infinitesimally again. “You’re so  _ stubborn,” _ he murmurs, almost to himself.

“Yes, you may as well give in to me now.”

* * *

After he finishes his tea and Dean finishes his whiskey, Cas showers and dresses for bed. His thoughts are spinning, but slowly, sluggishly. His head feels stuffed with cotton and his eyes are dry and scratchy. He crawls into bed and lays on his back, hands folded neatly over his chest, to stare at his ceiling.

He only makes it a few minutes before he realizes how absurd he’s being. He gets out of bed and goes down the hall, determination in every step. 

_ If he asks, just say that you’re feeling very vulnerable and that you’d like to stay with him. He won’t mind, he didn’t before, and- _

When he gets to Dean’s bedroom, readying himself to knock, it’s with surprise that he realizes there’s no need - the door is standing open a few inches, which is entirely out of character for his husband.

Cas pushes the door open a bit to find Dean lying in bed in almost a mirror of the way Cas himself was lying just a few moments ago. He turns to look at Cas when the door opens, then smiles, a warm, sleepy thing.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and Cas couldn’t resist even if he wanted to. He goes to Dean and curls up against him, head on his husband’s firm chest, with Dean’s fingers drawing nonsensical, gentle patterns on his back. 

Cas falls asleep quite easily that way.

* * *

Dean discovers the next day that, while she seems laid-back, Jody Mills is not a woman who fucks around, especially when it comes to her people.  _ Especially _ when it comes to Cas.

One terse, short conversation before he brought Cas to work and now he sits in one of the offices of Mills Security, meeting the two men she's selected for the job of watching over Dean and his husband.

Benny is a big guy, but moves like he knows what to do with his bulk. His light blue eyes sparkle with warmth and friendliness. He's got a drawl that Dean can't place and a firm handshake. Dean likes him immediately.

Jack, on the other hand, is a puppy. The jacket he wears over the button-down and slacks that appear to be the uniform here seems like it's a size too big. His eyes, too, seem too big and innocent for his face. Dean doesn't dislike him, per se, but he sure as hell would rather Benny be with Cas during the day.

"Standard contract," Benny says in his slow, even way. "I'll accompany you to work, and I'd prefer to ride with you to and from, if s'all the same to you. At home security would be extra, but it's an option."

Dean shakes his head. "At work is where I'm worried about him, to be honest, so I'd like-"

"Jack will be with me," Cas says firmly. "Benny will be going with you, Dean."

Dean can actually feel his eye start to twitch. His husband, as dear as he is, is stubborn as hell and has that "I'm going to adopt you so hard" look in his eyes that Gabe described and Dean has dreaded seeing. 

"Cas, I-"

"I'm afraid I'm going to insist," Cas says primly. "You'll just frighten him, Dean."

"I can go with Mr. Novak!" Jack says, still earnest. 

Dean's eye really does twitch when he hears Cas' last name. It wasn't a bone of contention at the time of the wedding, but in the weeks since, Dean has started to crave hearing Cas use his own last name, though that's not what's important right now.

"Of course you can," Cas says with a smile. Dean can see him planning all of the ways he's going to help the kid out in his pretty head now. 

"I'd really prefer if someone with more experience was watching over Cas," Dean says stiffly.

"And I'd prefer to have my own preference taken into account," Cas says without an ounce of ire or heat. It's hard to argue with him when he's so understanding and kind, and Cas knows it.

"Cas-"

"I wouldn't assign Jack if I didn't believe in him," Benny says a touch too loud, thoroughly interrupting the spat Dean was about to start. "He's young, but he's been through all the training."

"I'll be in a crowded shop in a crowded shopping center in broad daylight, Dean," Cas murmurs. "I think Jack will do just fine."

Dean wants to argue more, but doing so will not only make him a dick, it will also make an even more uncertain look cross Jack's face, which Dean just knows will upset Cas, which Dean would rather die than be the cause of. As much as he wants to wrap Cas in bubble wrap and keep him at home, he knows he can't even come close to it. Their marriage isn't  _ real, _ and even if it was, Cas is an adult, and his own person, not subject to each and every one of Dean's protective whims. Dean wouldn't want him to be, no matter how nice it would be to be able to lay down the law and have it obeyed in this moment.

Finally, he relents. "All right, all right. You're right. Let's sign."

He doesn't mention the tight feeling in his chest when he thinks of Cas alone in the shop with just a kid like Jack to watch out for him. He doesn't mention how distracted he's going to be all day, today and in the coming days, thinking about whether or not Cas is safe, not to mention happy and taken care of. He doesn't say out loud that he's considering taking a leave of absence so he can skulk around Needs Must and watch over Cas himself. 

All of that sounds fucking nuts for a man he essentially forced into marriage.

But Jack looks relieved and Cas beams at him before pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek, so he guesses it's worth it.

* * *

Benny and Jack start right away, so Dean drops Jack and Cas off at Needs Must before heading to up WM. Benny is a good guy, an easy conversationalist who knows when to let silence lie, which Dean appreciates. He laughs when Dean sneers at his rental car and can keep up well enough for someone who doesn't actively work on cars.

When they're inside, Benny is a perfect professional. He charms Anna out of a chair, making her fair skin brighten up in a blush, which tickles Dean to no end. He sits unobtrusively just outside of Dean's office, seemingly relaxed but watching everything and everyone. If Dean had been nervous at all about his own safety, he wouldn't be now.

Of course, that's not the safety he was worried about at  _ all, _ so he's more than a little eager to get back to Needs Must at the end of the day.

All of his dark suspicions are confirmed when he gets to the shop and sees Jack manning the counter, ringing up an elderly woman while listening to her rambling story about her cat. He's still one of the most earnest people Dean has ever laid eyes on, though now he's wearing a t-shirt that could have been plucked from Cas' closet instead of the button-down he started the day with. Dean is going to throttle his husband.

Dean leaves Benny to give Jack the stink-eye and stalks into the back room, where he knows he'll find Cas working his endless list of new inventory that has to be logged and tagged.

His husband is endearingly ruffled with dust in his hair and a pencil tucked behind each ear with another between his teeth. He's probably forgotten the ones behind his ears, it's a habit that Dean is normally driven to distraction by. He doesn't let it get him today.

_ "Cas." _ He tries to inject as much exasperation as he can into his voice.

Cas looks up and smiles brightly, making Dean's heart twist in his chest. "Dean! Is it that time already? Gosh, things have really-"

"Cas, sweetheart, why is Jack not back here with you?"

Cas frowns. "He's learning the front register!"

Dean comes to stand in front of Cas to look down at him with a combination of resignation and irritation. The urge to touch him is almost overwhelming, but Dean manfully resists.

"He's not  _ supposed _ to be learning the front register. He's supposed to be protecting you."

Cas frowns more emphatically, which effectively kills a part of Dean. "But the front door needs to be watched. What if we get customers?"

"Cas, he's supposed to be watching  _ you! _ And what about the back door, huh? What if someone came in the back?"

A scoff answers his bordering-on-hysterical question. "The back door is locked and the key has been lost for over twenty years. No one is coming in the back door." Cas' blue eyes search Dean's face before he reaches up to cradle Dean's cheek in his palm. Dean allows himself to lean into it.

"Dean, what is this about? We both know that, at best, Jack is an unnecessary, overly cautious precaution."

Dean is only so strong, and really, who could resist Cas' soft voice, warm body, and beseeching eyes? He pulls his husband to him and buries his face in that wild, dusty hair. Cas gives a soft  _ oof _ of surprise before folding his arms around Dean's neck and leaning into him almost shamelessly. Dean savors the contact. It's not the first time he's held Cas without the audience that they need to perform for there, but he treasures every genuine moment he gets to hold this man in his arms.

"I just..." He takes a deep breath, squeezing Cas a little tighter. "I  _ need _ to know that you're safe."

Cas honest to God  _ coos _ at him before leaning back just enough to press his forehead to Dean's. Dean doesn't open his eyes - he doesn't want to risk seeing anything other than affection in Cas'. 

"Just... Can you wait?" Dean pleads. "Wait to adopt Jack until the police find whoever's doing this to you? Please?"

Cas is opening his mouth to respond when Jack calls back.

"Cas? The Chinese place called to say that our order is ready. Do you want me to go pick it up?"

Dean finally opens his eyes to scowl down at his husband, who just laughs.

"Put the grumpy face away, Dean. I'll let Jack do the job you hired him to do from now on, and I won't let him watch the front counter by himself."

Dean hmphs and presses an indignant kiss to Cas' temple, savoring the way he shakes with laughter and leans further into Dean's arms, right where he belongs.


	9. Chapter Nine

Their routine reemerges, this time with bodyguards and a sparkly new security system installed by a very cross Jody at the house.

Though it’s been this way since Dean was legally allowed to, it’s starting to feel strange, being at work. He spent so long working between fifty and sixty hours a week that only working forty is a welcome respite, almost a vacation. Anna feels the same way, too, and though she sometimes gently laments all the overtime she was making before, she seems lighter, happier, more apt to smile. Dean feels like a shithead until she tartly reminds him that she’s an adult and could have made any objections she had known. He still feels bad after that, but he doesn’t mention it to her anymore.

He hasn’t heard much from John or the board since the retirement party, but he’s not especially surprised by that. This kind of handing over of power takes time, especially since John has been in the driver’s seat for so very long. Dean thinks the delay might be lengthened further by the less progressive parts of the board and how they feel about him marrying Cas, but all he feels is a vicious satisfaction when he thinks about it. Still, he doesn’t want to make the wait even  _ longer _ by being too obviously smug about it. So he keeps his head down and keeps the departments he oversees running smoothly as possible.

He thinks he’ll hear something soon, and when he does finally get the CEO position, he’ll be busier than ever (he tries not to think about how much free time he’ll have after Cas), so he does his best to enjoy what he has while he has it.

* * *

He gets home one evening to the scratchy sound of canned laughter and a mostly dark house. It must have been a busy day at the shop - when Cas feels frazzled, he tends to watch old sitcoms on the couch until Dean arrives.

Sure enough, once he's changed out of his suit into sweats and a t-shirt and makes his way into the living room, Cas is on the couch beneath one of the thick handmade afghans he got from the shop long enough ago that he can't properly recall. All Dean can really see of him is fluffy hair in the shifting light of the television.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, and Cas emerges enough to give him a grumpy, tired squint before scooting around to make room for Dean on the couch. 

He gladly goes and submits himself to being rearranged until he's laid back diagonally on the couch with Cas curled up against his side, head on his shoulder and forehead pressed against Dean's neck. His hair tickles and the blanket is heavy and scratchy and  _ covered _ in dog hair, but Dean's rarely been happier to be uncomfortable.

He wraps an arm around his husband's shoulders, the only form of physical affection he allows himself. "You wanna get a pizza for dinner?"

All he really gets is a hum in the affirmative, but Dean's all right with that. He pulls out his phone to text their usual order to the little independent pizza place Cas prefers.

Dean doesn’t mind when Cas gets like this (he loves it, really). Every other day, Cas is wonderful, caring, nurturing, and he's all of those things  _ all the time. _ He will drop what he's doing, no matter how important it is to him, to help anyone who needs it. He’s always on the lookout for reasons to be compassionate, for anyone who might need help. Cas is  _ there, _ all the time, for anyone who needs it.

Sometimes, though, Cas can’t be there. He gets tired or overwhelmed just like anyone would while running his own business, helping his little chosen family thrive, and helping Dean with this farce that feels less and less like a farce all the time. Cas gets tired, and more and more lately, when Cas gets tired, he comes to Dean.

He comes to Dean to take care of the little things like dinner, making sure the TV is loud enough to hear but not so loud that it’s deafening, for getting up and getting the pizza when it gets delivered. He lets Dean get the plates, bring him pizza, and rearrange the blanket again once they’re settled in. There are still days, of course, when Cas is self-sufficient enough to keep a distance between the two of them - a distance that Dean needs to remind him that this isn’t real (at least, not real for  _ Cas). _ And this is nothing more than Dean would do for anyone he cares about, taking care of them and making them okay.

Dean surreptitiously presses his face into Cas’ hair and pointedly does  _ not _ kiss the crown of his head, no matter how desperately he might want to. 

It just feels  _ better _ when it’s with Cas.

_ I am so fucking fucked. _

* * *

Late in the week, on a night when Cas is fine, they’re washing dishes in companionable silence when he suddenly speaks up.

“Dean, I… Can I ask something of you?”

_ Anything. _ “What’s up?”

Cas is studiously not looking at him, concentrating very hard on washing a plate that appears to Dean to be clean. Nerves start to crawl up Dean’s spine at Cas’ uncharacteristic hesitance, stilling his own hands from drying the glass in his hand.

“There’s a… Well, I don’t know if you’d be interested, but it’s a…” Cas stops and huffs out a frustrated breath. “Well, it’s-”

“Cas,” Dean says gently, “spit it out.”

Cas nods and takes another deep breath. “Heaven’s Light has a get together a few times a year in the parking lot in the middle of the shops. It’s nothing fancy, really, Jody and Ash cook out on the grill he keeps behind his shop-”

Dean blinks.“Ash keeps a grill behind The Doctor Is In?”

Cas smiles fondly. “He says one never knows what one will need in the world of computer and small electronic repair.”

Dean lets that roll around in his mind for a moment, then shakes the thought away. “Right, of course.”

_ “Anyway, _ we’re having one tomorrow afternoon. We all close early and just… Hang out, I suppose. It’s not much, like I said, but it’s very special. To me, it’s special to me,” He finally looks up and meets Dean’s gaze. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Dean really, truly thinks about his answer. Can he stand to lie more to the people at HLSC than he already does? It will mean  _ hours _ of pretending that Cas is his, holding him, feeling him, and knowing that at the end of the night, they’ll part ways like roommates because that’s essentially what they are.

_ God, you really must hate yourself sometimes, Winchester. _

Because no matter how much it will hurt at the end of the night, the way Cas’ eyes light up when he says yes will always be worth it.

* * *

In his head, Castiel knows that none of this is real. He knows that he’s not really married and that it’s very likely that in a few short months, he’ll move back into his own small apartment and say goodbye to Colonel and Dean forever. He’ll go back to his life the way it was before, a little more brokenhearted, forever a bit sadder than he was before Dean Winchester proposed to him in a business meeting about a rental agreement.

With Dean smiling at him, though, from where he’s letting Jody preach to him about the heat levels of coal while Ash drinks cheap beer and Aaron protests that propane is the way of the future, makes it very hard to  _ remember _ that none of it is real.

He smiles back and waves, a little shy, and feels his cheeks heat up in a blush when Dean winks at him. Cas himself is setting up the table with all of the homemade side dishes, guiltily listening with only half an ear to Donna chatter happily about a new muffin recipe.

“- and you’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you?”

He turns to give her his full attention. “Of course I am! Muffins!”

Donna laughs without ire. “Oh, Cas, you are  _ not! _ And who would be, married to that stud who’s making heart eyes at you from all the way over there?”

_ “Donna.” _ He just  _ knows _ that his blush is getting darker. “He most certainly is not. And aren’t  _ you _ married?”

Donna sniffs dismissively. “I’m married, not  _ dead, _ and Jodes and I have already talked about what a looker you landed.”

_ “What!?” _

Donna laughs again. “It’s not a  _ bad _ thing, Cas. He’s gorgeous! And so sweet, waiting on you hand and foot all day.”

It’s true that Cas hasn’t had to lift anything heavier than a salad bowl all afternoon. As soon as Dean showed up from work, deliciously rumpled with his tie nowhere to be found and his sharp business shirt with the top two buttons undone, he set to work setting up tables, bringing out food, helping Ash and Meg haul the coolers out from behind her front counter. He’s fetched, carried, and made himself useful in every possible way with nary a complaint, just a glowing smile and a forehead kiss for Cas.

Dean is such a tactile man, Cas thinks it’s a shame that he has so few opportunities to express himself that way. Any time they’re less than two feet apart, his hand is on the small of Cas’ back or his arm is around Cas’ waist or shoulders. It’s enough to drive a man to distraction, really, which is a good explanation as to why he was ignoring poor Donna.

“He is rather lovely, isn’t he?”

“And such a doll, too,” Meg says dryly, sidling up with Zeke in tow.

Cas smiles. “You like him.”

She shrugs noncommittally. “You’ve done worse for yourself, Clarence.”

“Well,  _ I _ think he’s just delightful!” Donna says cheerfully. “Meg, come with me so we can scope out a closer look and snag a beer from Ash. Jody gets all pissy when I drink the cheap stuff, but bless it, I love it.”

The women walk away murmuring between the two of them. They leave behind them a warm glow in Cas’ heart when he sees his little chosen family all around him, helping one another and accepting Dean so readily. If the warmth leaves a little ache behind it when he remembers that  _ none of it is real, _ then so be it. The warmth is worth the pain.

“Castiel,” Zeke says from next to him.

When he looks, Zeke looks solemn, almost angry. He always has a bit of an angry face, Meg calls it “resting bastard face,” but something genuinely seems to be troubling him.

Cas frowns. “What’s wrong, Zeke?”

He pauses awkwardly, then, “Is Winchester good? Is he… Is he treating you right?”

Cas beams. Their little family has always been so protective of one another. And poor Zeke has always been a bit reserved, always staying on the fringe of the group when they gather. They haven’t had much chance to talk since Cas told them about the engagement, it’s natural for him to worry.

He lays a hand on Zeke’s arm. Zeke stares down at it as Cas speaks.

“He does,” he says gently. “He’s very, very good to me. We love one another very much.”

Zeke’s jaw bulges as he clenches his teeth.  _ Poor man, we really should see about getting him to open up a bit more. _

“And if that changes, you know you can come to me with anything, right?”

Cas feels himself melt a little more. He wraps his friend in a tight hug. “Of course I do. Dean is wonderful, but I know that, Zeke.”

Zeke is hesitant, but does eventually hug Cas back enthusiastically. A bit  _ too _ hard, Cas admits to himself when he struggles to draw in a breath, but he  _ is _ very reserved. He probably doesn’t get much practice in hugging.

“Everything all right over here?”

Cas has to fight Zeke for a moment before he’s released and he can turn to Dean with a smile. “Wonderful! How is dinner coming along?”

Dean is just…  _ Radiant. _ He has an easy warmth that relaxes his big frame and widens his smile. He has a bottle in his hand, probably one of Meg’s homebrews. Cas knows that Dean worries about drinking and doesn’t do it too terribly often - he’ll be nursing that bottle all night, most likely.

“Well, I don’t know what Jody’s doing over there, but she sure has a lot of opinions about it,” he says as he wraps an arm around Cas’ waist and pulls him in. He gives Zeke a nod. “Zeke.”

Zeke nods stiffly back before turning around and wandering away, presumably to find Meg. While Cas loves spending time with his friends, he’s grateful for the opportunity to give his full attention to Dean.

"Are you having a good time?" he asks breathlessly as Dean keeps him close and nuzzles at his temple.

Dean hums his assent. "Yeah, it's fun. Better than that damn retirement party."

Cas laughs and leans into Dean's big, solid body. "It wasn't that bad. Maybe some of the company left something to be desired, but we did get to dance."

Dean smiles down at him. "You wanna dance, sweetheart?" He starts slowly swaying his hips in a manner that, quite frankly, should be illegal and feels downright sinful against Cas' own body. "I'll dance with you anywhere, Cas."

_ "Dean," _ Cas whispers in pleased bashfulness. He aches to hide his face away, bury it against Dean's neck and give over to the feelings growing within him. Pleasant warmth is turning slowly into shuddery heat, making him want to press into Dean, to shamelessly drag him away from prying eyes to do things he'd never want to do in front of his family.

Dean just grins and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, still moving them in tandem.

"Yo!" Meg calls, gleefully ruining the moment. Cas glares over his shoulder, just to see her smile widen wickedly. "Quit sucking face, dinner's ready!"

Only the way Dean laughs with his lips still pressed to Cas' cheek saves the moment.

* * *

Something is wrong with him.

He treasures the cookouts they do at HLSC. He proposed that they start several years ago, when it was just he, Jody, Donna, and Aaron. Their little shopping center has grown so much since then, but the cookouts have remained the same. Between the way Jody grills, Ash provides drinks, and Missouri bakes, they all eat  _ very _ well, and it's a chance to really dig deep and reconnect with one another outside of the day to day bustle of running their stores.

Tonight, though, Cas can't bring himself to focus on any of that.

They're sitting on a bench alongside one of the tables set up in the middle of the parking lot. Dean is a solid line of vibrant, distracting heat against Cas' side. He can hardly concentrate on the happy buzz of friendly conversation around them, and he picks at his food instead of eating heartily like he normally does at the cookouts. He's acting entirely unlike himself and he knows it.

The only thing that holds his attention is Dean's body pressed to his shoulder and the casual, easy way that Dean's arm came around his waist and has stayed there all evening, even though it means Dean has to eat with just one hand. The worst part is that it doesn't seem calculated, and Dean didn't check with him, even nonverbally, to make sure Cas would be okay with the touch, which means he  _ knew _ Cas would be okay with the touch.

_ Oh, God. _

As much as he thinks he might be fooling himself, some part of him knows that whatever they're doing is just as real to Dean as it is to him. It started out as deception, but Cas couldn't feel more honestly passionate about his husband if he tried. 

He loves Dean's drive, how hard he works, how much he's willing to do for the people around him. He loves that Dean runs in the mornings even though he hates it. He loves how Dean takes care of the people who work for him. He loves how Dean takes care of him when the world gets too demanding and he retreats into his own head.

He just loves Dean, and everything in him yearns to express that with fervent kisses and gentle touches that slowly turn demanding and frantic.

_ Stop it, _ he scolds himself, even as he nestles his body further under Dean's arm. Dean, who's talking to Ash, responds only by pulling Cas closer and squeezing his hip with one big hand. Cas shudders at the sensation.

_ What am I going to do? Well, I should probably talk to him, but what if I'm misreading the situation? What if he doesn't feel the same way? I think he does, but I don't have any way to know for sure. Except, of course, for asking him. For a man who represents the only person I'm being honest with right now, it's remarkably hard to be upfront about this. I don't know what- _

"Cassie," Gabe says dryly, "if you could stop eye-fucking your husband long enough to engage in conversation, that would be swell."

All Castiel wants to do in this moment is to glare at his friend for interrupting him, and to use that glare as an excuse to hide what he's sure is written all over his face from Dean. 

Unfortunately, Dean whips around to look at Cas, eyebrows already raised in preparation to tease. When he sees Cas, though, sees the genuine hunger on his face, he sobers instantly. The tension between them ratchets sky-high. Everyone else seems to fade to the background.

“Is that what you were doing, sweetheart?” Dean rasps.

Cas swallows hard, and when he speaks, his voice sounds like he was swallowing gravel. “Well, you  _ are _ very… Fuckable.”

Dean’s eyes fall closed.  _ “Cas,” _ he whispers, pained.

And just like that, looking at the sharp arousal on his husband’s face, Cas’ resolve snaps with an almost audible sound. It’s not like he’s done a very good job of keeping things professional as it is, and whatever hurt he was trying to spare himself from is going to happen no matter what he does at this point. He’s falling for his husband and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

_ May as well go all the way down. _

“Dean,” he says softly. He brings one hand up to cradle Dean’s jaw. He waits until those green eyes open up to look at him with wide pupils and a scorching gaze.

“Take me home.”

* * *

The drive home is a bit of a blur for Cas. He keeps one hand low on Dean’s knee as he drives, savoring the warmth and strength through the fine fabric of his slacks. 

Dean keeps shooting him incredulous looks that he probably thinks aren’t obvious, but Cas has learned too much about the man next to him to be unfamiliar with just how unworthy Dean thinks he is of anything good. Castiel is bound and determined to show Dean that he  _ is _ worthy of this and to absolutely drown him in it.

He knows that Dean’s hesitance stems, at least in part, from the concern that Cas’ desire isn’t genuine. He’s worried that this is part of the performance they’ve been putting on. The performance that stopped being a lie some time ago for Cas, and he suspects the same is true for Dean.

When they get to the house, Cas doesn’t let himself hesitate. Not that he wants to, anyway, but his own doubts have been staying his hand for this long and he can’t give them leverage anymore. 

He hardly waits for the car to stop before he’s jumping out and hurrying up the driveway to the house. A disbelieving chuckle follows him as he turns to grin at Dean, who’s almost right behind him already. He’s not the only one who feels the urgency.

When they get inside, they stall, much to Cas’ dismayed frustration. He’s frozen between a tidal wave of desire and the ironclad knowledge that he and Dean  _ should _ have a conversation before anything physical happens. They stand facing one another, just inside the door, the space between them too full of the complicated situation they’ve made for themselves to be able to bridge the gap.

As Cas frantically tries to find something to say that will get them moving forward, forward in  _ any _ way, Colonel prances into the hall, ecstatic to see them home. He barks happily, effectively breaking through the suffocating tension.

Dean laughs, low and hesitant even still, but genuine. “Colonel, go to bed.  _ Your _ bed, you mangy mutt.”

Colonel huffs indignantly, but obediently only nudges each of them affectionately before making his way to the living room.

When he looks back at Cas, some of the tension has left Dean, but he’s still jittery and not meeting Cas’ eyes. What Cas wouldn’t give to ease those nerves somehow.

And then it occurs to him that he  _ can. _ His own reluctance vanishes as he steps forward, wraps his hands around to cradle the back of Dean’s head, and yanks his husband down to kiss him soundly.

Dean comes alive in his arms. He opens for Cas immediately, tongue hot and slick as it slides against his own. His groan vibrates through his chest and seems to go straight to Cas’ groin.

Cas clenches his fingers in Dean’s hair, mussing it from the gel that was keeping it in place. He tugs gently until he can pull back enough to see Dean’s face.

_ Oh, my. _ With his hair a little wild, his eyes hot, and his lips starting to swell from Cas’ own mouth, Dean Winchester is enough to knock the breath out of anyone with just a look. For a moment, Cas can’t  _ believe _ his own luck.

“Bedroom,” he says hoarsely, already tugging his husband down the hall.

Dean grins, rakish and heartstopping. “Yours or mine?”

Cas laughs and starts walking backward. “Well,” he says, “I know that I have  _ supplies _ in my nightstand, if that’s what you want for tonight.”

It’s almost  _ violently _ satisfying to watch Dean’s cheeks flush.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I want that,  _ Christ.” _

Cas grins. “I thought you might.”

When they get to the bedroom, as soon as he kicks the door shut behind him, a sense of urgency blankets them. They fumble at one another’s clothes, Cas cursing at the buttons on Dean’s shirt and Dean muttering about how tight Cas’ jeans are until they’re both down to briefs. Cas drinks in the sight of his husband greedily, tanned and muscled and smooth. He spares half a thought to being self-conscious about his own pale, lithe frame, but ultimately dismisses it. He dares anyone presented with the sight of Dean Winchester almost naked to have anything at all going in their head.

Dean, who sinks to his knees with an absolutely enraptured expression on his handsome face. The few remaining thoughts in Cas’ head flee when Dean leans forward to rest his forehead against one of Cas’ hipbones.

_ “Jesus,” _ he murmurs. Cas can feel the warm puff of air from his breath against his thigh. It’s one of many things thoroughly distracting him.

Not quite distracting enough to keep him from cradling the back of Dean’s head with one hand. “Are you all right?”

Dean nods. “Just… A little convinced this is just a  _ really _ good dream, that’s all.”

Cas smiles fondly.  _ Of course. _ “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, or that you don’t want to.”

Dean looks up, affection in his warm green eyes, and rests his chin on Cas’ belly. Those eyes are blazing, his face stunning with intent.

“What I  _ want,” _ he says slowly, “is to suck your cock while I get myself ready for you, and  _ then _ I want to ride you like it’s my last day on Earth.”

The words hit Cas like a livewire and he shudders at their impact. A thousand half-formed images flutter through his mind and he grapples to come up with something witty to say.

“It’s not,” he finally spits out. He looks down at Dean and runs a careful thumb over the confused frown that’s marring his perfect face.

“Your last day,” Cas clarifies. “This isn’t… Well, I certainly  _ hope _ this isn’t our last chance to do this.”

He desperately doesn’t want to dismantle this moment. It took them so very long to get here, and he wants Dean so very much. He would though, for Dean. Of  _ course _ he would. He’d do it regardless of who his partner was, but there is so very little that he wouldn’t do for Dean. If Dean needed to stop, to talk things out, or just go to bed, Cas would do it. 

Dean, however, rolls his eyes and shifts down until that beautiful mouth is brushing against Cas’ cock as he speaks, sending jolts of pleasure up and down his entire frame.

“Cas, I know, sweetheart. I know. Can we just… Maybe talk after I get your dick in me? Please?”

Again, Cas’ brain shorts out. “Of course,” he says faintly. “Whatever you’d like.”

Dean grins. “Good.” Then, without further ceremony, he pulls Cas’ briefs down his thighs just enough for his cock to be released, shiny at the head and hard enough to hammer nails, gives an appreciative little hum, and takes Cas into his mouth almost down to the root.

The sound Cas makes is inhuman. He spasms at the hot suction engulfing him and has to fist his hands at his sides to avoid being inexcusably rude. He curves forward over Dean, gasping.

_ “Dean.” _

Dean hums in amusement, which does some  _ tremendous _ things to the mouthful he has of Cas. Cas realizes that his eyes have scrunched close. He manages to peel them open to stare down at Dean, who’s all wide, smiling eyes and lips flushed red and stretched wide around Cas’ length. The feel of him is indescribable, hot suction and silky cheeks and a wicked tongue.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice shaky.

Dean turns impossibly redder and his eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile. He takes Cas’ hand in his, squeezes once, and then begins to  _ move. _

Cas moans and his meager attention scatters again. His world narrows down to the tight seal Dean creates with his mouth and the movements of his tongue and throat. Dean sucks cock enthusiastically moving his whole body sinuously and clearly enjoying himself almost as much as Cas is.

He’s a truly lovely sight to behold, so it’s with real regret that Cas pulls his husband away after only a few moments.

“If you keep that up, the night is going to be over  _ very _ soon.” When Dean continues to speculatively eye him, Cas says gently, “We’ll have time to do everything, Dean.”

Another bare moment of resistance, then Dean nods and lets Cas pull him to his feet. As soon as he’s upright, Cas kisses him fiercely, intoxicated by the taste of himself in Dean’s mouth.

Dean tugs his own briefs off, pulls Cas’ the rest of the way down, and runs his hands over every inch of Cas he can reach while they make their way to the bed. His mouth is feverish and almost desperate, and Cas gives as good as he gets.  _ Lord, _ but he loves this man. 

When they get to the bed, Dean gently shoves Cas back until he’s lying back, staring up at Dean with what must be obvious adoration on his face. He scoots up until his head rests on his pillow and he can watch raptly as Dean leans over to pull a bottle of lube and a condom out of the nightstand.

Cas reaches for the lube. “I can-”

Dean stops him with a gentle hand on his chest. “I just want you to watch, sweetheart,” he says, somewhere between a satisfied purr and a hesitant request, in a way that strikes Cas directly in the heart. “I’ll do all the work.”

Cas wants to argue, but he’s rendered speechless once again by the sight of Dean walking up on his knees to straddle Cas’ stomach, lubing his fingers up, and reaching behind himself.

Cas has never felt the way he does when he’s with Dean. He’s never wanted anyone this way, so sharp it’s almost agony. He’s ravenous for the way Dean’s face contorts, first in mild discomfort, then in pleasure. He aches to help, to do something more than lie here, but he’ll respect what Dean wants. So he contents himself with stroking up and down Dean’s sides, hips, and thighs. He murmurs lovingly, sweet nothings and praise. He’s delighted to discover that Dean’s blush goes all the way down his chest.

He loses track of time that way, thumbing at Dean’s nipples to hear the catch of his breath and watching in awe the way his arm flexes and bunches, the way he swivels his hips back onto his own fingers. It’s truly intoxicating, and Cas wants to be drunk on it forever.

It’s no real surprise that he's surprised, then, when Dean shifts back until he’s straddling Cas’ hips properly. The look in his eyes is a little wild, and his movements are jerky, frantic. His cock looks almost painfully hard and copious precome makes the head shiny. Cas is helpless to do anything but rub his thumb gently along the slit and bring it to his mouth to taste.

Dean makes a strangled, desperate sound.  _ “Cas.” _

Cas looks up at him, runs his other hand soothingly down his side to rest on his hip again. “It’s all right,” he says softly, “we’re all right, Dean.”

Dean settles a bit at that, but Cas is still fumbling to get the condom out of the wrapper and onto his cock. As soon as it is, Dean bats his hands away and wastes little time lining himself up and sinking down onto Cas.

Despite the prep, Dean is  _ tight _ and so, so hot. Cas’ hands clench on his hips, not to control, but to cling to some shred of sanity and restraint.

_ “Oh, _ Dean, I-”

Dean’s hands land on his chest again, but very gently this time. When Cas looks up, Dean is staring down at him with a fevered affection that has his breath catching again.

“I need you, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I need to feel you. Wanna drive you wild, sweetheart.”

Cas smiles, overwhelmed. “Well, you’re well on your way to  _ that.” _

And then Dean once again starts to  _ move. _

Every motion he makes is meant to make Cas lose his head. Those lovely hips swivel and figure-eight, his strong legs carry him up and down at a devastating pace, and straight white teeth bite into a swollen bottom lip as Dean lets his eyes fall closed so he can revel in the pleasure he takes so sweetly from Cas’ body.

It’s fast and blinding. It feels like only moments later when Cas is crying out and digging his fingers into the muscles of Dean’s thighs. The pleasure is overwhelming, and he can feel his balls drawing up tight against his body. He fights his orgasm off, but only just.

“Dean, I’m going to-”

“I’m almost there,” Dean murmurs, and the last of Cas’ restraint dies a violent death.

With an upward surge, Cas bucks and rolls them so Dean is the one on his back. “Touch yourself, please, Dean,” he begs as he hoists one of Dean’s thighs up and starts driving into him in earnest.

His control is in tatters, but he manages to continue to keep his own orgasm away long enough for Dean to pump himself once, twice, then watches his beautiful face twist in pleasure as he comes hard all over both of their bellies and his own hand. It’s quite lovely, and the sensation of a Dean clamping down on him pushes Cas over the edge. His vision blurs and he cries out again as he fucks them both through orgasm and the aftershocks.

Once they’ve both stopped trembling, Cas collapses on top of Dean’s heaving chest, nuzzling his collarbones and trying to catch his breath.

After long, silent moments, Dean heaves a sigh that sounds like a laugh. “God _ damn, _ Cas, who knew you had it in you?”

Cas presses a smile to Dean’s shoulder “Forgive me, you seem to bring it out in me. I apologize if I was a bit… Forceful.”

Dean kisses his temple fondly. “You be forceful  _ any _ time, Cas. Really,  _ any _ time.”

Cas laughs and pushes himself up to look down at a grinning, pleasure-flushed face.  _ My God, do I love him. _

“All right, all right,” he says instead of examining that dangerous, wonderful thought. “We should clean up and get to bed.”

Dean runs a hand down Cas’ sweat-slicked spine. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Dean is a huge simp and I, for one, am _here for it._


	10. Chapter Ten

When his alarm goes off the next morning, Dean tries to flail his arm over to his nightstand to turn his phone off grumpily, just like he does every morning. When his arm doesn't respond, however, he realizes that just about every single thing about this morning is different than other mornings.

The first and, obviously, most important difference is the warm, firm body snuggled up to his side. Cas is all long legs and pale, warm skin tangled up and pressed against Dean, sleeping soundly with his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean's arm is numb from being curled around Cas and keeping him close.

They're not in Dean's bedroom, of course, since they ended up in Cas’ last night. While his alarm _is_ going off, it’s not actually on his nightstand, because it’s still in his pants, which ended up somewhere over by the door. Colonel is probably lying in the living room with his eyes glued to that same door, waiting for one of them to wake up and let him out.

For a moment, _just_ a moment, Dean is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the goodness, the _rightness_ of this moment, by Cas himself, by the languid lethargy in his bones, his muscles - his reward for good, athletic sex the night before. 

_This is exactly what I wanted._

And, impossibly, _impossibly,_ it appears that it’s what Cas wanted, too. At no point the night before did Dean see anything but a desperate, burning eagerness in his husband. Every touch was exquisite, tender, _loving._ If he believes nothing else about last night, Dean believes that Cas wanted it just as much as he himself did, and that it was as good for Cas as it was for him.

 _Christ._ Last night was like a hazy, lovely dream. The cookout, where he somehow found himself slotted in amongst the people of HLSC like a puzzle piece that finally found its place. He was surrounded by good food, good people, and good beer (Meg knows how to brew for sure). Cas was a sweet, warm weight up against his side, under his arm, and for the night Dean was able to pretend it was real - holding Cas, nuzzling at him, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek, and dancing him across the parking lot like Dean wants to spend the rest of his life doing just to make the other man smile.

And then it turned out that it _is_ real, at least to some extent. Whatever this thing is that’s taken up residence in Dean’s chest also lives in Cas now. Sure, they have things they have to talk about - their situation, how to come clean to their families, and what their longer term plans will be now that things have fundamentally changed, but they’ll be doing that _together._

So it’s with a giddy, almost disbelieving smile on his face that Dean turns to press gentle kisses against Cas’ face, across the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones, down his jaw and finally ending up at his full, smiling mouth. Cas shakes gently with raspy laughter.

“Good morning,” Cas says.

Dean’s grinning shamelessly. He rolls them so he’s hovering over Cas, and he savors the way Cas just goes, easy and warm and pliant.

“Mornin’.” His own voice is hoarse, too. 

Though they had the night before and Dean knows the feelings are mutual, he’s still nervous when he leans down. That trepidation is banished immediately when Cas meets him halfway, morning breath be damned, and kisses him back.

They’re both half hard and Dean closely considers the idea of rocking down against Cas, of starting something fast and hard for the morning, of making up for all of the time they’ve lost not talking to each other. Before he can act on the impulse, they’re interrupted by three sharp, short barks from the door.

Cas bursts into laughter, and he’s so lovely that Dean forgets to breathe for a moment.

* * *

Dean still has visions of Cas dancing in his head when he walks into the office a couple of hours later. Cas’ hair, _genuinely_ just-fucked wild this time, sticking up at all angles while Cas squinted angrily at a cup of coffee. He was wrapped in Dean’s threadbare bathrobe and one hand was absently stroking Colonel behind the ears. Dean loves him so much it hurts.

Anna cocks an eyebrow at him when he grins at her. “Good morning, boss,” she says with a smile. “Good night, too, I assume?”

Benny, walking in behind Dean, laughs out loud. “You’re not wrong, cher.”

Dean winks at her. “Good morning, Anna. Mind your damn business, both of you,” he says mildly. “Anything I need to know?”

She looks down at her computer. “Just that your father wants to see you before your first meeting today, and you have a stack of memos to return.”

Dean straightens up a little. He tenderly takes all of his newfound contentment and folds it away. It feels ungenerous to assume that John will ruin it, but Dean knows it’s true, and he’s not willing to sacrifice the way he feels just to keep his thoughts about his father kind. It’s not like John will ever know, anyway.

He accepts the paperwork from Anna, sets it and his briefcase on his desk, and leads Benny down the hall to his father’s office. He’s keyed up, wondering if this is _it._ Surely there’s paperwork he needs to sign, something to get started on to finally _formally_ start taking over his father’s position. He decides to call the energy buzzing beneath his skin _excitement,_ no matter how much it feels like anxiety.

He knocks on the door and waits for his father’s invitation before coming in. Benny takes up position outside and gently pulls the door close behind Dean. He wonders if it’s kosher to suggest a raise for the man. _Can you tip bodyguards?_

He shakes away his fast, anxiety-ridden thoughts and sits down across from John. “Sir, you wanted to see me?”

John doesn’t smile, nor does his face soften. He doesn’t even give him a “colleague smile,” just nods. “I did.”

Tension tightens the small of Dean’s back, making him sit up straighter. “What can I do for you?”

John meets his eyes and just looks at him for a few moments. He looks solemn, and almost… Regretful, ashamed. Dread dances up Dean’s spine to make him lightheaded.

Finally, John speaks.

“Dean,” and now Dean knows it’s bad, “there’s no easy way to say this, son. I know that you and Castiel moved things up because of the promotion, that the wedding didn’t happen the way you wanted it, necessarily, and for that I apologize.”

There’s a buzzing in the back of Dean’s head. “What?”

“The board is…” John grunts and runs a hand down his ace. For the first time, Dean thinks about how old his dad really is. “The board has decided to move forward with hiring someone from outside the company to take my position when I leave.”

Dean’s world stops spinning. It’s a gentle stop, but final, silent. 

“What?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I think-”

“Is this because of Cas? Because they wanted me to settle down and I didn’t settle down the way they wanted me to?”

John sighs. “Look, I don’t know why. Maybe they want someone with more expe-”

 _“Don’t,”_ Dean raises his voice at his father for the first time since he turned eighteen. _“Don’t_ say it’s someone with more experience. There’s _no one_ with more experience than me, and you know it. Not with this company.”

“Dean-”

“It is,” Dean says, an absent sort of horrified wonder in his voice. “It’s because I married a man. Because I didn’t settle down with a pretty blonde and have two-point-five kids. It’s because of Cas.”

Dean gambled with everything he’s ever known. He knew, he _knew_ they wouldn’t like him marrying Cas, and now he’s paying for it. The only real job he’s ever worked, the only thing he’s ever done with his life, the only thing he’s ever even _considered_ doing with his life, and now it’s in shambles because he couldn’t just let it be.

 _… No, not let it be. I couldn’t let them control another aspect of my life, Jesus Christ. I couldn’t do it, and even though they gave me the push, I_ chose _Cas, and I don’t regret it._

The realization that he doesn’t regret Cas, even if it cost him his promotion, is like a soothing balm over the raw, open sore that is his heart right now. They may have taken his job away, but he got Cas on his own. And sure, maybe he got married for them, but he fell in love with Cas all on his own, and Cas at the very least likes him a whole lot, if last night is anything to go by. That happened without the goddamn board’s approval, either. Or John’s, or Winchester Motors’.

Cas has become, all on his own, the most important person in Dean’s life, and Cas doesn’t care about Dean’s job at all. Actually, Cas might actively dislike the job, but that’s only because he thinks they ask too much of Dean without giving him enough in return.

And quite suddenly, Dean doesn’t really like the job, either.

He’s been tuning out John’s droning justifications while he panicked, his body flashing hot and cold as he processed the entire foundation upon which he’s built his life disappearing from beneath him. He tunes back in, but only to interrupt.

“I quit,” he says. He wants it to be firm and unshakeable, but his voice is shuddery and soft instead. _Dammit._

John doesn’t seem to hear him. 

“-won’t, of course, fix things, but over time, once you’ve gotten this taken care of, I really think-”

“No,” Dean says. He’s getting firmer. “No, I don’t think so.”

John falters and frowns. “You don’t think what?”

Dean leans forward and stands slowly. He’s pleased that he’s able to without stumbling - his legs feel a little numb.

“I don’t think I want to ‘fix things,’ or whatever you’re talking about.” He waves vaguely. “I quit.”

John’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. _“Excuse me?”_

It’s a tone of voice, hard and loud as a gunshot, that has always made Dean back down. He’s bent his neck and submitted more than once, every time, really, except for that brief period of rebellion as a teenager. He wonders if Cas would have liked him if they’d met then. How different would he be now?

The thought gives Dean the courage he needs to meet John’s bewildered, angry gaze. “You heard me, sir,” he says softly, no need to be loud. “I’m quitting.”

“Dean, the board-”

“This isn’t about the board anymore.” Dean straightens up, looks down at his father, and sees for the first time that the desk John sits at, the suit he wears, and the job he has is nothing, _nothing_ that Dean wants.

“This is about me, being tired of doing what I’m told. This is about Cas, who doesn’t deserve half of the shit I’ve had to put him through because of this company. I’m not giving him up, Dad, I’m just not, and I quit.”

John stands, too, seemingly letting it sink in how serious Dean is. “Dean, son, think about this for a second, now. We can bring the board around if you’re not willing to get a divorce, it will just take-”

“No.” Dean wants to be horrified that John would suggest a divorce instead of sticking up for him, but he can’t bring himself to lie to himself anymore. “No, we can’t, and I don’t want to. I’m done, Dad.”

John is still spluttering, well on his way to shouting, when he walks out of his father’s office. 

Benny immediately frowns upon laying eyes on Dean. “Y’all right, brother?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, but we need to go now.”

“Dean-”

Dean ignores him to make his way back down the hall to Anna’s desk. Benny’s just trying to be a good guy, trying to help, but Dean has to keep moving. If he doesn’t capitalize on the feelings he found in his father’s office, he’ll go back in there with his tail between his legs and ask John to forget everything.

Dean doesn’t want to forget a damn thing that happened in that office.

He gets to Anna’s desk and stops. She looks up with a fading smile on her face. Her fingers are poised over the keyboard. Dean notices that her nails are painted a royal blue. He likes it.

“Boss?”

He’s wigging out - he’s gotta get out of here. “Anna, I just quit my job.” He ignores her gasp and the way her hands fly to her mouth. “Now, you can stay here if you want, but if you don’t-”

But Anna is already pulling her purse out of her desk drawer. “Where are we going?”

Dean blinks. “Anna, I don’t have a job lined up. It’s kind of… Spur of the moment.”

She nods and pulls the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Good. It’s about time. Where are we going?”

“I don’t… Know?”

Benny coughs lightly behind him. “I think she means right now, brother.”

Dean blinks. “Oh. Uh. To Cas?”

Anna beams. “Great! I’ll be right behind you. I’ve been wanting to try Oh, You Betcha, anyway.”

“Anna,” Dean says, frowning. “I don’t have anything lined up. I’ll do what I can for you, of course, but I-”

“Shut up, boss,” Anna says warmly, fondly. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Cas is frowning down at his inventory book (he’s _always_ frowning at an inventory book) when Colonel sits up and _whuffs_ at the door. Cas turns to frown down at the dog, instead.

“What’s wrong? You don’t bark at customers.”

The bell dings and, sure enough, it’s not a customer who walks through the door. It’s Dean, followed by Benny and Dean’s secretary, Anna. Cas makes the briefest note of the other two people before the haggard look on Dean’s face catches his attention. That, along with the fact that Dean isn’t scolding him about Jack not being in sight (he’s in the back), consumes him with worry.

Cas is moving around the front counter before he realizes it. “Dean? What’s wrong? What happened? I-”

The moment they’re close enough, Dean wraps his arms around Cas and crushes him to his big, solid chest. Cas immediately clasps Dean back just as tightly, tilting his head up to murmur soothing nonsense into his husband’s ear.

“Shh, whatever it is, it’s okay, we’ll handle it together. We can do anything together, really, I think. So whatever is happening, we’ll _make_ it okay, okay? Shh, just tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it, darling, shh-”

“They’re not giving me the job.”

Cas stops, stunned. _“What?”_

Dean doesn’t move from where he’s buried his face in Cas’ neck. “They’re hiring someone else.”

Indignant fury burns through Cas’ veins instantly. _“What?_ Okay, what can we do? Can your father help? No, I don’t know why I asked, he’s probably part of the problem. That’s okay, we can do it ourselves! This is nonsense. Oh!” He snaps his fingers behind Dean’s back. “We can start a letter-writing campaign! Donna writes the _best_ letters. Oh, oh! And we can call a news crew! They uncover corrupt businesses all the time! We’ll-”

His planning is interrupted by Dean’s warm mouth pressed to his. Cas doubts he’ll ever get over how natural it feels to kiss Dean, and is therefore thoroughly distracted until Dean pulls away.

“I don’t…” Dean swallows hard. “I don’t even want the job. I think.”

Cas blinks again, but does his best to only miss _one_ beat. “Oh, okay. That’s okay. Um, what do you want?”

“Right now, I want to have lunch with you and Jack and Benny and Anna. Can I… Can we stay?”

Cas positively _melts._ “Of _course_ you can.” He kisses Dean’s pale cheek, noting the tremble still wracking his husband’s frame. “Come along, now, love.”

* * *

That evening, after an afternoon of Dean following him around meekly and looking lost and confused, Cas sends Benny and Jack on their way, takes him home, and makes a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Dean’s still subdued after he changes out of his suit and meets Cas in the living room.

As soon as Dean sits down, Cas plops himself right onto his husband’s lap, with his own legs stretched across Dean’s. He wraps the two of them in a blanket and nuzzles close, pointedly ignoring Dean’s bemused look.

He flips the movie to an old episode of Star Trek, smiling when Dean perks up a little. Colonel hops on the other side of the couch to rest his head on Cas’ shins.

“What-”

“This is comfort cuddling,” Cas says, interrupting Dean gently and letting his head rest on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s very important when a significant life change has taken place that you cuddle for comfort so you can heal and move forward.”

Finally, finally, the ghost of a real smile graces Dean’s handsome face. “Heal and move forward, huh?”

Cas nods earnestly and twists his head uncomfortably so he can keep his eyes on Dean. “Oh, yes. Very important.”

Dean wraps an arm around Cas to hold him close. “All right, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

* * *

The next morning starts much the same as the one before did - Dean wakes up tangled up with Cas, in Cas’ room. There are a few things that are different, of course. They didn’t have sex the night before, so he doesn’t have any of that good soreness in his body that he did yesterday. His phone is on Cas’ nightstand and his clothes are in the laundry basket instead of strewn across the floor. Colonel is curled up at Cas’ back, where Dean is pressed to Cas’ front.

Dean doesn’t have a job, whereas yesterday, he definitely did.

Cas is mumbling softly against his shoulder and Dean takes the opportunity to lift his head to blink blearily at the alarm clock. As soon as the numbers register, he stiffens in surprise.

 _“Cas,_ it’s almost _nine!”_

Cas groans and wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck to pull him back down. It never occurs to Dean to protest, he just moves until he’s lying on his back with Cas sprawled sleepily over him.

“No,” his husband grunts.

Dean can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, but he still shimmies a little to get Cas to wake up. Cas groans grumpily and looks up at him.

“Yes, dear? What is it?” he asks, which would be polite if it wasn’t for the grumpy tone in the bitten off words. Affection swells so much in Dean he’s not sure he can contain it all.

“Cas, sweetheart,” he says with a smile, “it’s almost nine. The shop opens at eight.”

Cas hmphs. “Not today, it doesn’t,” he murmurs defiantly as he buries his face in Dean’s chest again.

Dean frowns. “What?”

“The advantage,” Cas says, face still smushed against Dean’s skin, “of owning your own shop is that when your husband makes a life-altering decision, you can close that shop to spend the day at home with him. At home and ideally _sleeping in.”_

Dean ignores the pointed words as guilt drowns out the happy feelings bubbling up inside of him. 

_Life-altering decision._

It _was_ a life-altering decision when he quit his job. He’s well set-up for money, with careful investments, negligible spending, and the inherent privilege of having his father own the company he worked for for so long, so he doesn’t need to find other work _immediately,_ but he’ll need to eventually. And, more importantly, he left the job that had Cas walking into his office for the first time to discuss the future of HLSC.

“Cas,” he says softly, and the seriousness in his tone has Cas waking up for real and sitting up enough to prop himself on his elbows to hover over Dean. “Cas, sit up for a second. We should… Talk.”

A frown that probably shouldn’t be as endearing as it is creases Cas’ brow, but he sits up next to Dean, both of them leaning against the headboard. Dean tries not to let the sight of Cas’ bare chest and the way the sheets pool around his waist distract him.

Instead, he looks down at his hands, fisted in the sheets nervously. “I, uh… Yesterday was…”

A silence that he can only interpret as tense drapes over them until Cas reaches over and frees one of Dean’s hands before folding his fingers in with his own. 

“It’s okay,” Cas says, always gentle, always sweet and warm when Dean feels like he’s fumbling, falling. “Take your time.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I just… Look, when I quit my job, I wasn’t really thinking. I shouldn’t have done it without… Without talking to you first.” 

Confused, Cas asks, “Why?”

_Because you’re my partner. Because I love you. Because I don’t ever want to make a choice alone ever again._

“Because of the… Deal.”

The last word falls between them like a rock, which is fitting because Dean feels like a bottom-feeder when he says it. He knows, though, what he has to do. It’s going to break his heart, and he may never properly recover, but Cas doesn’t deserve to live with the consequences of Dean’s actions anymore than he’s already had to.

“Cas, look, I… I know this isn’t what you agreed to. And that’s okay, I didn’t know that- wait, no, that doesn’t matter. This isn’t what you agreed to, and I don’t want you to feel… _Obligated._ More than I’ve already obligated you, that is. So, listen you can… And the contract, it’s secure, you’re good, Gabe raked Sam over the coals with it, the kid’s got a lot to learn and Gabe’s a shark, and so Heaven’s Light will be safe no matter what, and-”

A gentle finger pressing to his lips stops his rambling, and Dean is torn between annoyance and gratefulness. He’s trying to _free_ Cas of him, but he’s making a mess of it, which is pretty par for the course, but-

That hand curves around his jaw and gently coaxes him until he turns his head to look into Cas’ eyes, warm and blue and so beautiful it makes the breath catch in Dean’s chest.

“You are,” Cas says with a smile, “about to say something terribly noble, I think. It’s just who you are, you can’t help it. But before you do, you should know that I have precisely _zero_ intention of leaving this marriage.”

The words refuse to make sense in Dean’s head. “What?”

Cas smiles wider. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, Dean Winchester, and I plan on keeping you, if that’s quite all right with you.”

The warm feeling bursts back to life in Dean’s chest. _Cas wants him._ They need to talk for about four more hours before he’s going to feel okay about this, about what he’s done to Cas and if he’s manipulating him, but _Cas wants him._ If Cas wants him even a fraction as much as he wants Cas, then all of that other shit can wait. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, smiling so wide his cheeks ache. He nuzzles into the palm of Cas’ hand. “Yeah, that’s all right with me, sweetheart.”

* * *

They don’t open the shop, but they do end up in Oh, You Betcha for lunch. Donna’s fussing has become so familiar that it’s a balm, a soothing blanket that settles over Dean’s shoulders. 

“We were so worried, and no text!” she scolds as she brings them big cups, black coffee for Dean and strong tea with sweetener and milk for Cas.

“We had a… Trying day yesterday,” Cas says with a grateful smile to her. “We ended up home late and slept in, too. We decided to take the day off for personal reasons.”

The lie sounds terrible in Cas’ mouth, and Dean decides that there’s been enough deception to last them a lifetime. He can’t stomach any more of it.

Still, it takes him a beat or two to screw up the courage to look up at Donna and force his voice to sound casual when he says, “I quit my job up at WM yesterday.”

Donna’s eyebrows raise, but she rolls with the surprise admirably. Dean is unspeakably grateful. She nods once, decisively, and pats his shoulder.

“Good,” she says, “terrible place, that. Putting a nice boy like you in suits all day. A shame, is what it was.”

She leaves them to their drinks, and Dean looks across the table at Cas, who’s resting his chin in the palm of his hand and gazing warmly at Dean. The early afternoon light is shining through the window, highlighting the streaks of brown in his hair, making his eyes sparkle.

“Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do?”

Dean hasn’t, not really, but what Donna said sounded… Nice.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that I don’t ever want to wear a suit again.”

Cas positively _beams_ at him, goodness and affection almost pouring out of him.

“I think that’s a _very_ good thing to want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Look at my lil' baby Dean, all grown up and whatnot.


End file.
